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Chapter Text

MAMAN

Missed Call (12)

Biting her lip, Enid only watches as her phone buzzes in her hand again.

She briefly wonders if she should answer. 

In hindsight, hopping on the first train out of their small town this morning without telling anyone can be pretty worrying.

Maybe her mother is actually worried about her and Enid should at least tell her she's safe?

Her phone finally stops buzzing but starts up shortly again.

MAMAN

You had better not be in Paris right now.

MAMAN

We spoke about this, Enid.

MAMAN

You are going to be in trouble when you come home.

Thankfully, before she can let her mother's threats get to her, Enid hears her number being called.

"Number 128?"

Enid promptly stands up, waving one hand up in the air. "Here!"

Her cheeks flush slightly when she feels scrutinising eyes on her and hears giggles from around.

"What a country bumpkin."

"Does she think she's at school or something?"

Ignoring their stage whispers (she’s used to being underestimated), Enid hurries past them to the bored looking assistant holding the door open.

She turns her phone on silent and shoves it into her pocket.

Enid takes a deep breath and clears her mind.

Her mother will have to wait.

She has an audition to ace.

With a total population in her small town in the south of France that always hovers around, but never quite teetering over 2,000 people, nothing really happens. 

So when something like Eurovision rolls over every year, it’s no wonder most of the townsfolk end up piling into one of the very few local bars or any homes hosting watch parties.

Enid’s earliest memory of Eurovision is from when she was 11 years old as she sits on the floor next to her quarrelling brothers, her parents seated just behind them on the family sofa, chatting with their friends.

“Papa,” Enid turns around to say to her father, hearing that the grand final result is not so dissimilar to previous years, “Why are we always last? When will we win?”

Her father looks at Enid with heavy defeat and honesty in his eyes as he replies, “We have not won for nearly 40 years. I doubt we will ever see another victory again.”

She’s not sure if it’s the disappointment in the air with France’s entry coming dead last with a song that was quite honestly catchy to Enid, her father’s disappointed tone, her mother complaining to their friends how everything is political anyway, or the sight of the scantily dressed women riding bulls, but it sticks with her.

She feels a fire alight within her and the words come out before she realises she had formed them in her head. “I want to win Eurovision for France.”

Her brothers cackle loudly and tease her while her mother scoffs at her, claiming Enid should spend more time on her studies instead of having such foolish whims.

But her father gives Enid a reassuring smile and says, “That would be great to see, mon trésor.”

And that’s all the encouragement Enid needs, the seed that’s planted.

Music is fun.

It always has been for Enid, ever since she received her first keyboard on her 10th birthday.

She loves writing down words and matching them to beats, melodies.

Her words are sometimes deep, exposing her innermost thoughts that are too vulnerable to share to the world.

Other times they are nonsensical, just a bunch of meaningless words tied together that somehow sound good along with each note she picks.

Enid sings when she’s happy and she sings when she’s sad.

She just wants to sing.

And if it’s for the glory of France, her precious hometown, then it’s all the better.

It’s not until 2021 when France places second that Enid’s hope scorches wildly and deep within her.

Enid knows France can win again.

And she wants to be the one to lead the efforts.

She picks up her pen, puts on her headphones and she does what she does best.

She’s ready to share her heart with the world and she crafts a song.

“Let’s start with an introduction of yourself.”

Enid wonders where to start.

A dreamer, is what she has been called all her life.

Amongst other things.

Enid Sinclair.

Only daughter of Esther and Murray Sinclair of the Sinclair Farm.

Sister of the rowdy, troublemaker Sinclair brothers.

Town musician of the local bar.

Idealist. Romantic. Naive.

It’s probably too much to disclose and they don’t care about any of these so Enid settles on other facts.

“Sure! Hi! My name is Enid Sinclair, I am 20 years old and I have been writing my own music for just over seven years now. I live down South, around a five hour train journey away from Paris. My musical style is pop, mainly dance and bubblegum, though recently I have also started to incorporate Kpop.”

The panel of judges, Enid assumes, give brief nods.

“Why do you want to represent France for Eurovision 2023?”

Enid pauses, trying to hold back her rambling and word vomiting when she gets nervous.

There’s so many things she could say.

She could relay the story about the 2014 contest planting the seed in her mind.

She could talk about how she poured her heart and soul into this very song she picked for her entry; an anthem with deeply sapphic undertones because she’s too much of a coward to say those words out loud. But one day, maybe she can do more than hide behind her thinly veiled words.

But again, maybe too much to disclose to a bunch of strangers who probably don’t care about her answer anyway.

So Enid only summarises it all to, “I want France to win Eurovision with my song. And I believe I can do it.”

The judges falter slightly and look at each other, making Enid wonder if she said the wrong thing and maybe she should have told her sappy origin story after all.

But it’s too late now and they move on.

“Very well. Let’s start.”

Taking in a deep breath, Enid tries to collect herself.

She can do this.

She had snuck out of her house after her mother specifically forbade her from auditioning.

She had spent two hours on her hair and make up on the train this morning.

She had spent the previous night picking out the perfect outfit to match her song and going back and forth whether she should come today or not.

She had spent over a year crafting and tweaking this song into this final form, ready to share with the world.

And Enid sings.

parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne (même si ça ne devrait pas) is the title (it’s long, Enid knows) Enid had spent countless nights formulating.

Written in her usual poppy style, paying homage to the older second generation girl groups of Kpop, it’s so easy to take the lyrics at face value.

To be honest, with the boppy beats and melody she produced alongside the words, she doesn’t expect anyone to overthink it.

'Cause you and me, it works (even though it shouldn't).

On the surface, her lyrics make it seem like there’s two sides of her and she’s talking to herself: toi et moi / you and me.

And how everyone has another side that you have to live with, though they may be contrasting or conflicting.

But Enid knows the real meaning and doesn’t think it’s that hard to peel things back to reveal the true intent if you look a bit closer.

She wonders if there will come a time when people will realise the queercoding behind her words and that toi et moi / you and me is not about her learning to love herself but about her trying to love another woman in such a prejudiced world.

And if they do, Enid wonders if she will be brave enough to admit it out loud.

Her mother adds two weeks worth of additional chores around the farm for Enid when she returns home and spends the entire evening chastising Enid about her wasting time following her frivolous dreams when she should be looking for a suitable husband instead.

“Not Eugène though,” her mother had quickly reminded Enid, as if she had any intention or interest at all in returning her neighbour’s crush on her, “Though his mothers insist on bringing up his fancy towards you, we must nip it in the bud and not indulge in their delusional fantasies of us engaging with their kind.”

Enid bites her tongue to stop herself from snapping at her mother for her bigotry towards Eugène’s lovely mothers because she knows it won’t change anything.

It never does.

But in the end, her mother’s punishment and harsh words which aggravate Enid is all worth it to her because Enid took her shot and now, all she needs to do is wait.

A week passes without any news and Enid thinks it’s fine, the internal selection panel must have held a lot of auditions.

A month passes and Enid starts to get antsy but, whatever.

The contest is still months away, she has time.

Another two months pass and by now, Enid’s accepted that she’s not good enough and maybe it’s best her song stays hidden.

Maybe it’s for the best that she stays hidden.

A week later, Enid gets the call saying she’s been selected for the 2023 Eurovision France representative.

Everything feels like a whirlwind after that.

Suddenly Enid’s name is everywhere in France and even her old school mates start blowing up her phone.

They coordinate to get a music video ready for Enid’s song before their reveal date two months before the scheduled contest. Which ends up only giving Enid a mere week to get it out.

Luckily, or not, they have a creative team on hand to help with the music video, and while Enid actually does like some of their suggestions, most of them seem like shit to her.

Well, shit may be taking it a bit too far but…their ideas just weren’t her.

She doesn’t want to have a fancy dance break for the chorus.

The creative team offers a choreographer but Enid declines mainly because she knows she’s not going to be able to pick up anything in less than a week. And because she’s a singer-songwriter and not a dancer.

She doesn’t want to pull in a male love interest.

Even if they weren’t aware of the homoerotic connotations of her song, having any love interest involved doesn’t make sense with the surface-level meaning of accepting yourself.

Eventually, they compromise on no love interests at all and Enid having free reign on her own chaotic freestyle dancing.

With the tight deadline, the final product ends up being pretty much a video just shy of three minutes of Enid dancing (or at least what she calls dancing) in a box room of an explosion of colour.

The French committee apparently doesn’t like it and says it looks too amateur, too childish, too colourful.

But by then, it’s too late for them to reshoot anything which Enid is more than happy with because if she’s going to represent France in Eurovision, she’s going to do it as her pure and authentic self.

It goes viral.

And holy smokes, does it go viral.

Her music video is released as scheduled and not even two days later, her dance becomes a TikTok trend.

People are endeared by all the bursts of colour in the box room, on her face, hair and clothes; all the awkwardness of Enid’s dancing consisting of her twirling around, not-quite going into full shuffle dance moves, her long arms fumbling around her lanky frame, reminiscent of Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights choreography.

The French audience approve of her nationalism with her lyrics fully in French even though the requirements were at least 70% (she admits, she’s much too proud to write any percent in English) and the way she wears the French flag with pride as a cape as she sways her body to the upbeat and catchy music.

With initial feedback from the French committee, Enid learns her song becomes a fan favourite entry immediately and she feels closer than ever before to her dream.

Not that it particularly bursts Enid’s bubble, but she feels trepidation when just a few days later, Spain releases their music video entry and suddenly, Enid finds her own dance competing against theirs for TikTok’s latest trend.

She sees the trend on TikTok, people flailing their bodies around rigidly, clicking their fingers and turning their heads side to side and it’s just so different to Enid’s dance that she doesn’t even feel especially threatened, just…curious.

The song itself is…odd and Enid can’t help the musical analyst in her from coming out when she starts to disassemble each layer to find various themes overlaying on top of each other.

The overall instruments involved are reminiscent of something punk or rock but the percussion backing only consists of something that sounds like fingers clicking. The melody itself has evident flamenco vibes and it’s clear the vocals hold years of experience with opera training. 

It’s strange because it shouldn’t work.

Each genre clashes with the next and the transitions throughout the song don’t make any sense theoretically but somehow it all just…does.

Looking online, Enid’s not surprised to see the Spanish entry quickly becoming a favourite to win too.

Differing from the internal selection audition process Enid went through, Spain had apparently gone via the televised public televoting path with this final entry having beaten the other 17 shortlisted ones.

Telling herself it’s all part of the research and nothing else, Enid looks up the Eurovision 2023 playlist on YouTube.

She doesn’t even know why she’s bothering to pretend to look through the list as if she’s not specifically searching for Spain’s entry of Los Locos Addams with their song simply titled, Tema de "Los Locos Addams".

She could have saved time just searching for the damn thing rather than having to scroll through all other 20 plus videos of all the countries that have currently released their songs.

The thumbnail of the music video is plainly an old family portrait consisting of four middle-aged adults, one younger girl and one teenage boy.

Enid hits play.

The familiar opening of the song Enid recognises from TikTok starts and the Addams family is introduced with their names.

Apparently the family consists of a mother and father named Morticia and Gomez, their son and daughter named Pugsley and Wednesday, an uncle named Fester and a butler named Lurch.

Though Enid doesn’t know any Spanish, it doesn’t make her lose attention or focus on the video because there’s just so much going on.

In a good way.

Unfortunately.

Morticia and Gomez belt out powerful notes with their distinctly trained opera voices as the rest of the family provide solid backing vocals, harmonising perfectly.

Just as Enid wonders where the dance trend came from, a spotlight focuses on the daughter, Wednesday, as she goes into the familiar dance Enid saw on Tiktok.

But the original always proves to be the best because Enid is absolutely captivated by Wednesday.

The shape of her curves under her black dress, the wide eyed look on her doe eyes, though there’s nothing innocent about the way she looks, as if she knows all of your secrets and more.

Her dainty frame shows how flexible she is with her limbs contorting in ways that makes Enid want to reach out and touch her.

At the same time, though she looks soft and delicate, it seems to contrast perfectly with the striking and prominent features on her face; her defined jawline and perfectly shaped lips. 

As the song enters its outro, there’s a crescendo in time with red liquid rushing out of the sprinklers, downpouring itself onto the family.

And when Enid sees Wednesday stare into the camera with a wide sinister smile as the red drips down her face and she pops her finger in her mouth, Enid can only stare blankly at her own reflection on her laptop screen when the video fades to black.

Her heart beats wildly as she says to herself, “Damn.”

Of course it’s just Enid’s luck for her to be entering Eurovision the very first year the automatic qualification of the Big Five had been abolished.

As well as harbouring the most insane (since when were dark and gloomy girls her type?), and probably inappropriate, crush on a participant from the other biggest fan favourite entry.

Damn, indeed.

Ever the optimist, Enid tells herself it’s probably for the best that she’s travelling to Eurovision, hosted in the UK this year, by herself.

Her father has to stay behind to tend to their farm, her brothers have to stay to help him due to it being a busy season and her mother had said, “No point wasting an extra plane or train ticket when you have to come back after the semi-final shortly.”

It’s fine. Enid’s fine with being alone.

It’s always just been Enid and her music.

However, lately, she can’t seem to find any words as she stares blankly down at her notebook and her mind is painstakingly devoid of notes as her fingers remain still over the keys of her keyboard.

England is by far not the furthest Enid has ever travelled before but it will be the longest she’ll be away from her family.

If she makes it past the semi-finals to the Grand Final, this will be her home for the next two weeks.

With this in mind, she spends a bit of time unpacking and making her moderately sized, but definitely overpriced hotel room (though still significantly less than London when she last visited sometime back).

A tall blonde woman knocks on Enid’s door as she’s wondering how to position her plushies on the hotel bed. The woman introduces herself as Larissa Weems, the head of the French broadcaster committee who will be overseeing France’s participation for Eurovision, as she does every year.

Though Enid finds it strange that Weems had seemed so absent all this time with Enid only having heard of her name from others and only being able to see her in person now, she doesn’t question anything because she has other more important things to focus on.

Weems shares with Enid the schedule for the next two weeks and learns France has been divided into the second semi-final group, meaning Enid has an extra two days to practise compared to if she were in the first group.

She’s not sure if she would have preferred to be in the first group, just to get the semi-final out of the way quickly, though she is slightly relieved to see Spain being placed in the first group so they won’t need to go head to head together just yet.

But all of this doesn’t matter anyway because second group and Spanish entry or not, Enid’s going to do her best.

There’s a welcome party this first night in a private event space in Enid’s hotel, which she learns is the official Eurovision hotel to host participants and their guests (mainly families, looking around).

Social butterfly as Enid is, she’s still in a foreign country by herself in a room full of strangers and as good as her English is, she’s still not as comfortable or quick to pick up words in her second language.

So when she’s introduced to Yoko Tanaka, a Japanese girl close enough to her age who happens to be Australia’s entry, Enid’s happy to cling to her like a lifeline and fortunately ends up getting on well with her like a house on fire.

“Ah,” Enid scrambles to come up with a response when Yoko confesses she has a crush on one half of Ireland’s entry of the twin act, The Gemini Sirens, consisting of brother and sister Kent and Divina.

“Yes,” Enid pauses, thinking of what response a normal straight girl would say. “Kent is very…handsome.”

Yoko, still donning her sunglasses, looks over them at Enid as if she’s grown two heads.

Enid panics, wondering if her words weren’t convincing enough. “You know, with his…”

She quickly looks over at Kent who’s currently deconstructing as many Bourbon biscuits he can to coat his face with the halves, the only visible part left of him being his forehead which he has yet to cover. “Wide forehead.”

She and Yoko stare at each other.

Then, a few seconds later, Yoko bursts out laughing.

“Are you effing serious? I’m talking about Divina, not Kent, gross,” Yoko says, gesturing to Divina who’s standing next to Kent but obviously pretending she’s not with him. “But you do you, I guess. If…wide foreheads are your thing.”

And Enid nearly spits out her drink when Yoko adds, “Or dudes.”

“What?”

“Sorry mate, I just thought you were into chicks too. But I shouldn’t have made that assumption.”

The way Yoko shrugs so casually as if she hadn’t discovered Enid’s biggest secret makes the anxiety grow in Enid’s stomach. But the casualness of it also gives her a bit of relief.

Maybe it’s the wine she’s been sipping on and the affinity she’s found with Yoko that gives Enid the nudge to be honest.

“No, your assumption was right,” Enid quietly says.

And Enid is glad she made the jump when Yoko doesn’t react and only says, “Bonzer,” which apparently is a positive thing.

They don’t speak more on the topic and instead, take full advantage of the free flowing wine.

It’s unclear if the wine helps Yoko, or if she’s naturally charming or confident, because less than an hour later, Enid sees her pretty cosy with Divina in a corner.

Leaving Enid stuck with Kent as they both awkwardly stand together.

It’s not that Kent is bad company, but it’s just hard for Enid to understand him through his strong Irish accent. And the difficulty in communication seems mutual as they keep asking each other to repeat themselves.

They both give up after Enid tries to ask Kent how many biscuits he managed to fit on his face (the biscuits have now been eaten, she thinks) and they finally understand each other after they go back and forth five times.

Thankfully, Yoko is back soon and Divina and Kent go mingle elsewhere.

Enid happily listens to Yoko gush about how she managed to exchange numbers with Divina though she’s not sure how it’ll work because Dublin is so far from Sydney but that doesn’t mean they can’t have any fun together these two weeks.

But Enid misses what Yoko says next because how can she focus on anything else when Wednesday Addams is just across from her?

Differing from her music video where she’s in more formal attire, with her black, lacy dress and her hair elegantly up, she’s no less devastatingly beautiful.

In fact, now that Enid takes the time to run her eyes over her more, she decides she’s even more gorgeous in person.

The wine doesn’t seem to be helping as Enid feels a bit lightheaded from taking her slight frame in, seeing just how petite and short the other girl actually is.

Which Enid finds absolutely ridiculous because she’s never had a crush come on this strong and she’s never even spoken to the damn girl before.

Though her hair is down in twin plaits, neatly in place over her shoulders, and she’s dressed in a casual manner with a dark jacket over her jumper, her posture still looks as perfect and straight as in the video and she still radiates the same air of hostility and unattainability.

Especially as she’s glaring daggers at the guy standing opposite her, looking as if he’s in her way. Which he probably is, judging by the way he tries to stop her from leaving by stepping side to side like an annoying obstacle.

Enid vaguely remembers Mr. Roadblock as someone from one half of the UK entry (either Tyler or Xavier, if she remembers correctly) who’s clearly trying to converse with her and Enid can’t help but listen in.

“Hi! I’m Tyler, I’m from the UK entry, The Hydes. How are you finding–”

Tyler, Enid now learns, doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Wednesday sidesteps and walks past him, only letting out three words curtly.

“No hablo inglés.”

And even Enid knows what that means (I don't speak English) and thinks it’s probably for the best if it means Enid herself won’t be able to converse with her.

Though…Enid does kind of know a few Spanish phrases and words here and there from some lesbian telenovela series she had obsessed over a few years back–

But she shouldn’t indulge in this silly crush anyway.

Enid knows she's definitely had too much to drink if she’s gotten to the stage of sharing a toilet cubicle with Yoko.

But thankfully, the hotel bathrooms are much cleaner than any dingy club Enid’s been to in the brief times she’s snuck off to go partying in Paris.

As much as Enid loves her hometown, it’s not like it’s brimming in choices for a night out with its grand total of three bars. And unsurprisingly, none of which are lesbian ones either.

Curious, and having nothing to do as she waits for Yoko to pee, Enid asks, “How did you know? About me liking girls?”

Yoko shrugs. “I dunno, man,” she says and gestures to Enid, “You just give off gay vibes.”

Before Enid can feel self-conscious and ask what that exactly means, Yoko adds, “Plus, you’ve not been able to keep your eyes off Sadako tonight.”

“Sadako?”

“From Ring? Classic horror movie?”

“I don’t like horror films.”

“Pfft, of course you don’t. But you like her. What do you like about her?”

She blames the wine as well as the language barrier because Enid Sinclair is a songwriter. 

A lyricist.

She’s goddamn French, her native language being the most romantic language in the world.

So she should have better, more beautiful and intricate words to describe just what captivates her about Wednesday Addams.

But in the end, all she manages to say is, “Oh my god, she is just so fucking hot.”

And then Enid just also has to add, “Hermosa. Beautiful, you know?” exaggerating the accent, because she’s cultured.

Yoko only laughs as she flushes the toilet and the two of them clamber out of the cubicle in a giggling mess.

And then, Enid instantly wishes the ground will just swallow her whole.

Because standing in front of them with her back towards them is Wednesday Addams washing her hands in the sink.

Wednesday only gives Enid and Yoko a slow onceover as she dries her hands, before leaving without a word.

Enid blanches, only able to stare at the door that closes behind Wednesday.

“How much do you think she heard? Do you think she knew we were talking about her? Do you think she knows who Sadako is?”

“Probably a lot. And yes. And yes. Unless there’s another gothy girl around who speaks Spanish.”

It’s only Yoko’s comforting words (albeit through her laughter) of, “Y’know, you need to leave the bathroom if you want to win Eurovision,” and Enid thinking maybe it’s fine and Wednesday doesn’t know enough English to deduce they were talking about her that eventually gets Enid out.

Yoko’s words of, “So what if she heard? It’s actually better if she knows you find her attractive. That’s already overcoming half of the lesbian drama and uncertainty we go through,” and, “Or maybe she thought we were shagging in the bathroom and you were calling me beautiful,” doesn’t really help Enid and she’s too embarrassed to return to the party.

Afterwards, when she’s back in the safety of her hotel room and has sobered up a bit (funny how quickly you can sober up when humiliation overtakes your body), she shamelessly opens up the same video of, Tema de "Los Locos Addams", because she has no self-control and watches it on repeat until she becomes familiar with the Spanish of the chorus and even some of the verses.

As Wednesday’s eyes stare back at her from the screen, a familiar sensation rises within Enid that she’s not felt in a long time. Not since she had penned parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne (même si ça ne devrait pas).

As proud as she is of it, she also hates it because since its composition, Enid feels drained.

Empty.

A part of her knows it’s because she put all of herself into it, treating it as her magnum opus, leaving her worrying that there’s nothing left of her to give.

She misses songwriting.

She misses the excitement that wells in her chest, her fingers struggling to keep up with the fast paced racing of her mind; full of words, notes, feelings.

But tonight, something feels different.

Watching the video, listening to the melody on her laptop and ignoring the embarrassment that came with the way Wednesday had looked at her in the bathroom, Enid feels different.

And for the first time in well over 10 months with her mind full of red streaks, black lace and dark eyes, Enid composes.

When she's finished, she coins it, je ne parle pas anglais / I do not speak English.

Chapter Text

[alt image: Yoko Tanaka and Enid Sinclair each holding a glass of wine out to the camera with their arms around each other.]

Yoko Tanaka  @enidsinclair Who cares who wins Eurovision 2023? The real question is: will 🇦🇺 or 🇫🇷 win the piss up tonight? 🍷

—

aussie_botch  bestie, ur mates w enid sinclair??

Fleur-escence  🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷

yokofan2002  OMGGG are they together?

kiss-my-axe  Love their friendship 🥰

bi-bi-miss-american-bi. I KNEW IT! I KNEW ENID SINCLAIR IS GAY

      | gay4yoko  sorry boys, yoko turned her gay and she now plays for us girls, i dont make the rules 💅💅💅

      | IAmNotABogan  jfc, not everyone is gay 🙄

hot_gyal 🤔 What is a “piss up”?

Retrospectively, Enid knows she should have gotten a good night’s rest before her very first rehearsal but she couldn’t resist chasing after the wisps of her inspiration, now that they had made a reappearance after the previous drought.

Arriving at the arena an hour before her scheduled rehearsal time, she kills some of the time by taking a few selfies and videos for her slowly growing social media following, careful to not capture any of the other entries in the background.

She opens her app, seeing new comments on the photo she took together with Yoko last night.

The photo wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary that Enid felt would out her. Though she was apprehensive of being associated with Yoko at all, which she felt really bad about. Because Yoko was kind of a big gay icon in Australia, being fully out and having had a few publicly known, as well as some unknown, Enid had been told, relationships with other women.

But Enid didn’t want that fear to stop her from being friends with Yoko because she’s super fun and Enid really likes hanging out with her. 

Her chest tightens reading the comments but overall, it’s not too bad.

She’s still safe.

When it’s her turn next to rehearse, Enid’s introduced to the stage manager who introduces herself as Marilyn Thornhill.

Thornhill’s a chirpy woman who looks to owe her perkiness to her caffeine judging by the dark circles around her bespectacled eyes, the massive cup of coffee in her hands and said-hands twitching as she clutches onto a stack of papers.

Enid doesn’t envy her job, seeing her speak quickly through her headset and go through all the rules and regulations.

“For the live performances, there will be a 40 second turnaround time for the set changes between each performance, so please do not loiter as you enter and leave the stage–” Thornhill explains to Enid as if these details weren’t already highlighted in her rehearsal information pack.

She goes on about other things but Enid’s attention drifts because she needs to utilise her time on the stage.

The stage had looked huge when she first stepped into the arena and when she saw the others rehearse on it.

Then, as Enid steps onto it, it feels even bigger.

She looks out at the empty seats, picturing herself standing there as she accepts the Eurovision trophy.

For France.

What would her hometown say?

Her school bullies who used to laugh at her as she burst into song from her daydreams in their lessons when she should have been writing some essay about some guy who colonised some country.

The adults who would laugh and shake their heads at her, saying, “Here that Sinclair girl goes again,” as she declared year after year that she would win Eurovision some day.

The patrons of the bar she part-time performs at, who would drunkenly heckle her singing, catcall her perversely or loudly request her to sing covers rather than her own material.  

The very same ones who had blown up her phone after the announcement that she would be France’s representative for Eurovision.

What would her mother say? Would she finally be proud of her? Finally support her career?

But she doesn’t have time for her mind to wander any longer because Thornhill keeps her eyes on Enid and points at her watch, reminding her to stick to the scheduled time she has.

The intro starts up and Enid does what she does best.

She pushes everything down, and she performs. 

There’s no rule that you can’t linger or loiter in the arena during rehearsals.

In fact, Enid can already see a few contestants who are scheduled for their rehearsals tomorrow who are probably here today to scope out the competition.

She could feel their eyes on her when she was on stage earlier.

She knows there’s a lot of hype around her and her song due to the TikTok dance trend and while a part of her is arrogantly pleased to show off being a clear fan favourite, she’s also hoping no one’s around the corner waiting to put pins in her shoes or anything.

She doesn’t know how real those sabotage plotlines are from the TV shows she watches but she doesn’t want to take any chances. And mustn't they have come from some sense of truth somewhere?

By now, Enid’s familiar with the entries this year but there’s only one other she’s interested in.

And judging by the crowd that had formed for Enid’s performance that had dispersed shortly after but have now returned to watch this next rehearsal, Enid knows others also have their eyes on them.

Los Locos Addams.

It’s weird seeing them as a group together because while they all definitely share a family resemblance, the way they seem to present themselves seems so different.

Morticia and Lurch are quietly chatting together, their expressions looking very serious and calm.

Gomez, Pugsley and Uncle Fester almost seem goofy as they talk animatedly to each other and make dramatic gestures with their arms.

And Wednesday…

Wednesday only has her eyes closed, earbuds in her ears.

Her long eyelashes flutter slightly and Enid wonders what she’s listening to.  

When they’re called on stage, Wednesday takes her earbuds out and wraps them around a…cassette player?

Enid remembers playing around with the old cassettes stored in the attic when she was much younger but she’s never seen anyone actually use one. Especially nowadays.

They all seem to be discussing timings and cues by their body language and it’s silly but when Wednesday responds to her family in her quiet voice, Enid wishes she was closer to be able to hear her clearer and that she knew more Spanish to know what she was saying. 

Thornhill predictably gets antsy when they’re still talking and hurries them to start.

“Muy bien!” Gomez calls out and they get into position.

Despite them not performing at their best, and Enid knows because the dancing lacks the sharpness and fluidity in their music video and Gomez actually yawns in the middle of one of his lines, the whole family on stage is still mesmerising.

The crowd of contestants that had formed to watch also appear entranced and Enid starts to feel nervous because if they can command so much attention and they’re not even trying, then what are they going to be like with the actual performance?

But her nervousness is overridden with something else when she sees Wednesday’s dance break.

Her movements are so wacky and kooky but it all makes Wednesday just that more stunning to Enid.

Wednesday’s facial expression is wild with her wide eyes looking back and forth and when she throws her head back, Enid can only look at the glorious curve of her neck and think about how soft her skin looks.

There’s no real red liquid to cover them all for this rehearsal, Enid assumes because it would be too messy to clean up, but everyone acts as if there is.

Being very familiar with the routine by now, Enid’s heart beats wildly in anticipation and she can’t help herself from bringing her phone camera up to zoom in on Wednesday’s face as she gives her menacing smirk and puts her finger into her mouth.

*FLASH*

Everyone’s eyes snap to Enid at the sound of the camera shutter and flash, but Enid doesn’t pay them any mind as her face heats up and she only registers Wednesday’s scowl when her eyes find Enid’s.

Yoko had jokingly declined Enid’s invitation for lunch together because she said she didn’t want to be associated with Enid’s creepy antics.

Which nearly sent Enid into a panic attack before Yoko had reassured her that her gay panic wasn’t exposed and that everyone probably thinks she was just doing research on the competition.

Furthermore, Yoko had said she would have loved to go for lunch with her, but she had plans with Divina already.

Leading to Enid having lunch on her lonesome, determinedly outside of the hotel because she doesn’t want to run into any of the other contestants who have witnessed or by now heard about her mortifying moment.

The wine is kinda gross (not all wine can be as good as from France, she guesses, especially not one from Sussex) and the food is a bit bland, but the weather’s pretty good, so that’s something.

She’s taking another sip of her wine, which is definitely helping with her nerves, when the squeaking of the chair being pulled out from opposite her makes her look up.

And she nearly chokes right there, when she sees Wednesday Addams sit down.

Taking a look around them and back at Wednesday a few times, Enid’s sure Wednesday must have mistaken her table for someone else’s, or her for someone else because why the hell would she be sitting there, otherwise?

Or, what if Wednesday’s here to tell her off for taking a photo of her sucking her finger on stage like some kind of gross pervert?

(Enid doesn’t want to think how much truth that statement holds, because since then, she has periodically looked at that photo and had no plans to delete it.)

Or, what if Wednesday had somehow managed to get a hold of Enid’s search history and came here to call her out for being a creep on pretty much online-stalking her for the past week?

(Though it turns out there isn’t much to online-stalk, because Wednesday apparently doesn’t hold much of an online presence besides within the main Los Locos Addams account.)

But Wednesday’s not saying anything, only staring deeply at Enid as if she’s waiting for Enid to say something, even though Wednesday was the one who had abruptly sat down at her table.

Before Enid’s brain can combust from the confusion and also just from being so close to Wednesday and seeing how cute her freckles are (she didn’t even know Wednesday had freckles), Enid forces herself to say, “Hi?”

There’s a long silence and Enid gulps at how intense Wednesday’s stare is, thinking how damn lucky she is to be looked at by Wednesday and how she’s close enough that Enid can even smell her–

But then, just as unexpectedly as Wednesday had sat down, she stands up again and Enid nearly faints when she feels Wednesday tentatively place a hand on her shoulder.

Enid wishes she had worn a thinner shirt or one of her off-the-shoulder tops.

“I’ll see you later,” Wednesday says, the volume of her voice much louder than Enid had expected, startling her more.

And then just like that, Wednesday leaves.

Staring after her in confusion, Enid is dumbfounded by the interaction and loops through the scene over and over again in her mind.

Enid, minding her own business, drinking her bad wine.

Wednesday, coming over to sit down.

Enid, saying hi.

Enid, getting lost in Wednesday’s eyes–

Focus, Enid.

Wednesday, not responding, only staring.

Enid, wondering what Wednesday smells like–

Focus.

Wednesday, touching Enid’s shoulder.

Enid, dying from the contact.

Wednesday, leaving.

After the eighth iteration, she doesn’t get any further with trying to understand what on earth had happened.

She had somehow manifested Wednesday, only for their interaction to not really go anywhere.

Giving up on trying to figure it out, Enid polishes off her wine, grimacing at the dregs and flags down the server over for the bill.

Just before she swipes her card, she notices the amount seems a lot more than her simple pasta dish and glass of not-even-good white wine.

Scanning the bill, she sees a few extra items on it and frowns. “I think there’s been a mistake, I didn’t order any of these.”

“No, but the girl you were with did,” the server responds, pointing to a table nearby with empty plates and glasses, “She said the two of you were together.”

After the initial shock and confusion wears off, Enid’s fuming all the way back to her hotel room, the 15 minute walk not doing anything but simmering her anger further.

It’s not until she’s back in her room replaying the events again does she realise that Wednesday had actually spoken to her in English.

So she does hablo inglés after all.

And Enid hates how she thinks Wednesday’s voice was so cute, now that she had been close enough to actually hear it.

Almost cute enough for her to get away with the stunt she had pulled with Enid.

But amongst Enid’s anger, there’s also something else.

Just like the night of the welcome party.

There’s the same tingling in her fingers and her mind filled with words and melodies as she remembers Wednesday’s deep stare, her voice and her hand on Enid’s shoulder.

Enid sits at her keyboard and plays until the words run dry, her notebook full of scribbles.

And she calls it, elle me doit 17,80£ / she owes me £17.80.

Her second rehearsal is only scheduled for tomorrow but Enid forgoes a day off in favour of checking out the group of second rehearsals at the arena today.

She tells herself it would be good to see the progress of all the contestants but she knows she’s lying to herself and she wouldn’t have come if it weren’t for seeing Spain on the list of rehearsals today.

She’s still feeling sore from her abrasive interaction with Wednesday but she knows she should give everyone the benefit of the doubt.

She wonders what kind of explanation Wednesday had for yesterday.

Her chance comes when she spots Wednesday walking down the hallway, earbuds in place.

Immediately, her anger from before dies out, which she absolutely hates, when Wednesday approaches and all Enid can think about is just how adorable she looks in her oversized hoodie.

Then, her brain struggles to catch up with the situation as Wednesday gets closer and all Enid manages out is, “Erm…hi!”

Knowing Wednesday probably can’t hear her because of her music, she throws in a few excited waves which seems to do the job to get Wednesday’s attention.

Enid beams widely at her.

Wednesday doesn’t even blink as her gaze on Enid lasts all but one second before she’s looking straight ahead again and walks right past Enid.

As Enid stares disbelievingly at Wednesday's back, her anger from before is back in full force.

Her anger only grows when she peeks at Los Locos Addams on stage for their rehearsal and again, they don’t appear to be performing at their full, but they are still as bewitching as ever.

Though this time Enid uses every ounce of strength in her and her self-control to not take out her phone to snap a photo of Wednesday sticking her finger in her mouth.

(She already has one photo so that should be good enough anyway.)

When they end their performance, Enid hurries to try to catch Wednesday because she knows if she doesn’t receive some explanation from the other girl, she’s going to end up fixating on this when she needs to focus on her own performance.

As she rounds the corner, trying to keep up with Los Locos Addams, Enid’s glad for her quick reflexes, otherwise she would have probably broken her nose with the sudden swinging of the door that nearly hits her right in the face.

“Whoa!” a voice calls out and Enid yelps as she nearly loses her footing and falls back but a hand grabs onto her. But her balance is all wrong and she ends up falling forward on top of a soft chest.

Feeling slightly winded and hearing a small, “Oof,” from below her, she meets the eyes of Bianca Barclay, Belgium’s entry.

They’ve not spoken in person before but she’s seen her around and recalls her entry, a slow ballad with her strong vocals.

“I’m so sorry,” Enid apologises.

“It’s fine,” Bianca says.

They scramble to get off of each other but Enid’s bracelet gets caught in the sequins of Bianca’s belt in her shorts and it’s so awkward because how does Enid manage to get herself into these situations?

Like straddling a stranger and being in such close proximity to their crotch?

There’s a rush of apologies from Enid and she’s glad at least Bianca doesn’t seem weirded out or anything (Enid doesn’t know what she would have done if it were Wednesday on top of her) and Bianca is only calm as she tries to undo her belt to release Enid.

Just as she manages to unbuckle her belt, Bianca looks over Enid’s shoulder, her eyes slightly widening as she says, “This is so not what it looks like.”

Turning around to see who Bianca is talking to, Enid should have known who it would be with all of her luck recently.

Wednesday stands by the doorway, openly gaping at the two of them.

She briefly looks startled as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s just seen but quickly recovers and looks away and around as if to say, “None of my business,” and rapidly walks off.

Enid lets out a mortified groan that only deepens when Bianca speaks from underneath her.

“I would appreciate it if you would get off of me now.”

As soon as Enid arrives, she wishes she had just stayed in her hotel room.

She doesn’t really want to be subjected to any more social interactions which may lead to any more mortifying scenarios like earlier.

Though Yoko had been the one who told her to come out tonight, she’s nowhere to be seen and Enid bets she’s with Divina.

Not that Enid holds that against Yoko because if it were Enid, she would also rather ditch this to spend time doing other more intimate activities.

There’s too many people at the party, much more than the initial welcome party.

Enid guesses it’s because some were too tired to join that very first night or were too nervous or strung up. But now that they were a few days into the contest, people seemed to be starting to relax more and making more friends, the rivalry clearly dying down.

Kent is friendly enough when he spots Enid and invites her to join him and Ajax Petropolus, Greece’s entry.

It takes her some time but eventually Enid digs up Ajax’s entry in her head; a dance, hip hop song with chill vibes where he raps a few times.

She thinks.

She doesn’t really pay much attention to the male performances.

Or at least, generally, none of them are nearly as memorable as Spain’s entry.

For obvious reasons.

After her introduction with Ajax, he seems like a nice enough guy so Enid has no qualms in hanging out with him.

And his English is much easier to understand than Kent’s, in her opinion, which makes it easier for the three of them to converse.

They snap a few selfies together for their social media and Enid ignores the sting in her when comments immediately fly in, claiming how cute she is with Ajax or how cute she is with Kent, with them speculating if they are actually dating or not.

Kent brings up something called a strawpedo, a way of drinking really quickly with the use of a straw, which Ajax is instantly eager to try out but Enid politely declines joining them in favour of literally doing anything else.

Though she’s somehow dragged into drinking with them, non-strawpedo style, as both Kent and Ajax clap and chant out some British drinking song, encouraging her to down her drink.

“We like to drink with Enid, cause Enid is our mate! And when we drink with Enid, she finishes in 8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1!”

By now, Kent and Ajax are so far gone with their own drinks that they obnoxiously holler and yell loudly, cheering for Enid, which grabs the attention of others at the party.

She’s not usually a fan of such laddish behaviour, but the camaraderie between the three of them feels good, and when they hold onto her tightly as if they have been best friends forever, Enid can only return their hugs and affectionately rolls her eyes at them.

She tries to mingle with a few others but there’s so many languages spoken that it makes Enid feel a bit dizzy, but that also may be because of the drink she had downed with Kent and Ajax, when she tries to process what everyone is saying.

Yoko eventually messages her to apologise for bailing so Enid decides there’s no point staying any longer and starts to leave before anyone else can flag her down for small talk.

Especially from the UK entry, now that she sees the other half, Xavier, some average tall white boy just like Tyler, is also here, completing the duo act.

But Enid halts immediately when she notices the British pair almost sandwiching Wednesday between them.

“I know you know English. You can keep trying to push me away. It’s not going to work,” Tyler says.

“Leave her alone, Tyler,” Xavier says, only to puff out his chest and continue with, “She’s clearly into me.”

While Wednesday’s expression looks murderous, it doesn’t seem to deter both of the boys from their close proximity to her as they keep leaning closer and closer in.

“We’re here for two weeks, let’s get to know each other more.”

“Yeah, we can show you the sights around England, we know the best places.”

Enid rolls her eyes at how cliché and unoriginal the two sound. Like seriously, this is Wednesday frickin’ Addams they're trying to impress and they both obviously haven’t looked in the mirror recently to check themselves.

She squeezes herself through the small gap between Tyler and Xavier. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Wednesday’s eyes dart to Enid and they fill with suspicion.

Which makes Enid scoff because does Wednesday really think Enid is less trustworthy than the likes of these boys?

“You know each other?” Tyler asks, curiously looking between the both of them.

“Yeah,” Enid says the same time Wednesday says, “No.”

Wednesday only offers Enid an unimpressed look when Enid narrows her eyes at her.

Possibly sensing the tension and the obvious lack of camaraderie between them, Xavier chooses to ignore Enid’s appearance completely. “Come on, let’s ditch these guys.”

As Enid takes a step forward to protest when Xavier takes Wednesday’s hand into his, Enid hears the audible crunch and Xavier’s scream before she sees the unnatural positioning of three of his fingers bent backwards, nearly at a 90 degrees angle.

“Oh god,” Enid says to herself, trying to stop herself from gagging at the sight.

Enid looks away to stop herself from throwing up but she can hear Tyler and Xavier.

“Xavier! Are you OK?”

“Do I look OK? She broke my fucking hand!”

It turns out Xavier’s deduction was right and Wednesday did in fact break his hand.

Enid inwardly gives Wednesday a high-five.

Inwardly because she doesn’t think it’s so appropriate to do so outwardly as the three of them, herself, Wednesday and Tyler, stand before some angry looking members of the Eurovision committee, including Weems, in a small office.

And she doesn’t think Wednesday would be receptive to such contact.

They tell them that Xavier, unfortunately, but of course, Enid and probably Wednesday disagrees, has to be placed on medical leave for six weeks.

Which means The Hydes would require a few rather large adjustments to their performance, which Tyler is not happy with.

When the meeting concludes, Weems leaves Enid with a warning to stay out of trouble, which Enid scoffs at because it’s not like she did anything wrong here.

And Tyler leaves them with a heated look that actually frightens Enid with the amount of animosity held as he storms off in silence.

Leaving only Enid and Wednesday.

“Well,” Enid says, trying to break the awkward silence, “It’s been an interesting night.”

Wednesday doesn’t say anything and when she only lets out an exhale as if she’s exasperated with Enid, Enid snaps.

“OK, what is your problem?”

Wednesday only stares blankly at Enid.

Her silence frustrates Enid further.

“I’ve tried to help you but you’re just so–”

“I do not require any unsolicited help,” Wednesday interrupts.

A part of Enid is actually stunned when she hears Wednesday speak because she half-expected her to ignore her again or whack out her false dismissal of not knowing English. 

And Enid doesn’t have a response when Wednesday lazily looks her up and down and finishes with, “Least of all from the likes of a philanderer.”

Chapter Text

coureur de jupons, Enid translates it to when she gets back to her room.

Synonyms include roué, libertine, debauchee, womaniser, flirt, seducer…

The list goes on but Enid gets the idea.

And it only leaves Enid flushed and absolutely baffled.

[alt video: Wednesday Addams stands unconcerned behind Tyler Galpin and Xavier Thorpe. Tyler asks Xavier, “Xavier! Are you OK?” to check on Xavier holding his disfigured hand who replies with, “Do I look OK? She broke my fucking hand!” as Enid Sinclair dry heaves in the back.]

Eurovision Fan Account   Breaking news as Wednesday Addams, part of the Spanish entry Los Locos Addams, severely assaults UK entry, The Hydes’ Xavier Thorpe. For more information, click here.

—

EurovisionFan2743  damn girly needs some srs hlp

      | PROTECT-ENID-SINCLAIR  😱😱😱😱😱

TheHydesBride  omg she needs to be arrested asap ☠️

dudebutthole  I s2g it’s always the hot ones that are crazy

iheartxavierforever  😭 poor xavier

Tyler_Galpins_GF  Justice for The Hydes! 😡

      | xXemogirl666Xx  I bet she did it cos she knew they were gonna win

It shouldn’t have been surprising that there’s a video of the whole Wednesday and Xavier incident that leaks, mere hours after it had happened.

Enid knows she should stay out of it but when the video, taken from some other contestant, Enid guesses, and news breaks of what happened to Xavier and the entire blame is put on Wednesday for being dangerous and violent, Enid also knows she can’t just sit back and do nothing.

Enid clicks on the video shared virally now, just capturing the aftermath after Xavier had started screaming.

She can see herself visibly gagging in the back as Tyler checks on Xavier with Xavier’s voice ringing out clearly, “Do I look OK? She broke my fucking hand!”

While there’s a cluster of edited videos that approve of Wednesday’s attack, including adding sunglasses on Wednesday’s face, or air horns or klaxons sound effects with the superimposed text of “Owned,” the majority seem to be condemning Wednesday.

Which pisses Enid off.

Weems and Yoko tell her to sleep it off and wait for everything to blow over because there’s nothing they can do but Enid can’t stop the antsy feeling within her.

Enid goes for her second rehearsal, trying to distract herself from the online commentary but evidently, she can’t get away from it as others keep coming up to her to ask about what happened.

When she sees comments on her own social media warning her away from Wednesday and to be careful, amongst others demanding the removal of Los Locos Addams from Eurovision, she lets out a deep breath.

She was never good at following advice anyway.

And Enid types.

“What did I tell you about staying out of trouble?” Weems says as soon as Enid opens her door.

“Erm…to do it?”

It’s apparently not the right answer, seeing the disapproval from Weems.

Enid sighs. “You know it was all justified. It’s so unfair for Wednesday to get all this crap when the real bad guys are Xavier and Tyler.”

Early on, when she went through some PR training course as she was learning more about social media and general content marketing, the advice of, “Never write a post when you’re feeling deeply emotional as it will cloud your mind and judgement,” went right out the window as she wrote her statement.

Because Enid didn’t have time to calm down, not when everyone was being so awful to Wednesday.

And what she wrote, emotional and angry as it had been, was all true.

She wrote about how it shouldn’t have been considered an assault or attack and that it was self defence, with the way Xavier and Tyler had been bothering Wednesday.

She had been so angry for Wednesday, it was only until after she had posted did she realise it was all in French but it was enough for the media to pick up on it instantly and translate for the English-speaking audience.

Weems’ face seems to soften but her tone remains stern. “I know. But you could have said something to us before you went ahead and released that public announcement on your own.”

“Pfft. Like anyone would have listened. You were there, you saw what they were like.”

Remembering the committee meeting, they only seemed concerned about burying everything. They didn’t even bother to ask what could have led to the events that had transpired. Why Wednesday would have done that.

No one even asked Wednesday if she was OK after being harassed by the two boys.

Enid’s stomach drops when she thinks back to seeing their interactions yesterday.

How long have they been bothering her? Has this been going on since the welcome party, over half a week ago?

“So…am I in trouble, or what?” Enid asks tentatively when Weems doesn’t say anything.

“No. The only ones in trouble here are Tyler and Xavier.”

Enid can’t believe her eyes when she sees the statement released by the Eurovision official account.

“Upon further internal investigation, we regret to say that the board has decided to remove UK entry, The Hydes, from this year’s contest. Their behaviour has been completely unacceptable and is not something we tolerate or condone. Our main priority is always the safety of all of our contestants.”

Enid clicks her tongue at the super fake statement, clearly only forced by the overwhelming pressure from the public after her own post went viral, but she feels great. 

Because she did it.

Unsolicited or not, Enid was able to help.

The hotel restaurant seems much busier than usual which makes Enid kick herself for not making a reservation, although she hadn’t thought anyone else would be having dinner so late.

Enid doesn’t really want to bother with the ordeal of organising security as well as a disguise if she went out for dinner, especially after her rise in popularity and recognition after the whole Xavier and Wednesday thing.

So when the hotel staff gives her an apologetic look and says, “I’m sorry, Ms. Sinclair, unfortunately, we are fully booked for this evening,” Enid can only sigh in disappointment.

Ready to head back to her room to order room service and though she would have been eating alone anyway, the thought of eating alone in her hotel room seems that much more pitiful and lonely than if she were eating alone in the restaurant.

She turns around again when she hears her name being called.

“Buenas tardes, Enid!”

She almost has to do a double take because why would Gomez Addams be talking to her?

“Oh, um…hi. Mr. Addams?”

She has no idea how to address him.

“Please, call me Gomez,” he says warmly, “Are you dining here tonight too?”

“Oh no. I mean, I wanted to, but they don’t have any space, so…” she trails off awkwardly.

Gomez looks aghast, his dramatics almost making Enid laugh and he asks, “Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh,” Enid says nervously because she can’t think of anything more awkward than joining the Addams family for dinner.

And it’s more awkward when the rest of the Addams approach, with Morticia leading the group to join Gomez.

Wednesday’s step falters as she sees Enid and a scowl immediately grows on her face.

Gomez doesn’t notice and introduces everyone to Enid, explaining that she should join them for dinner and she’s surprised to feel such warmth from everyone else.

She wonders where Wednesday gets her coldness and detachedness from.

Though they are warm and all seem like lovely people, Enid’s still unsure about having dinner with them.

She’s about to decline when she sees Wednesday shoot her a glare as if to say, “Accept if you have a death wish.”

Like said, Enid’s never good at following advice.

So she looks right at Wednesday, smiling as wide as she can and says, “I would love to join my friend and her family for dinner.”

It hits the mark and Wednesday’s frown deepens.

“That is delightful, I did not know the two of you are so close,” Morticia says as they all head to the table.

“We are,” Enid says the same time Wednesday says, “We are not.”

Giving Wednesday the most cloying smile Enid can muster, she says to Morticia, “We actually had lunch together a few days ago.”

Wednesday doesn’t say anything but Enid can see her jaw clench.

And Enid mouths to Wednesday, “You owe me £17.80.”

Dinner turns out to be extremely fun.

Though the Addams try to include Enid as much as possible, it’s understandable for the family to revert back to Spanish the majority of the time, not that Enid minds at all.

And Enid loves it when she hears Wednesday speak in Spanish, her tone definitely much warmer than when speaking to Enid (not surprisingly).

She wonders if she will ever get the chance to hear such warmth directed at her.

She catches Wednesday’s eye and Wednesday immediately turns away from her.

Well, Enid thinks, most likely not. 

Sitting back, Enid takes in the table and she’s not sure when was the last time she had dinner with her own family that felt this easy-going and carefree.

When dinner ends and Enid tries to pay for her own share, Gomez waves her off. “Nonsense! Any friend of Wednesday’s is a friend of ours.”

And it’s slightly awkward when Morticia says, “Thank you, Enid. For what you did for Wednesday. Wednesday is so very lucky to have a friend like you.”

She assumes Morticia is talking about Enid’s post exposing Xavier. It surprises her because throughout the dinner, they had never once brought up the topic.

Glancing over to Wednesday, she’s standing stiffly and Enid almost expects her to retort back with something about not needing her unsolicited help again but she only continues to stand there, staring at Enid impassively.

And then predictably, Wednesday doesn’t say anything and only sprints ahead to leave, with Pugsley chasing after her like younger siblings tend to do.

And when Morticia and Gomez say goodbye to Enid with tight hugs, she feels her eyes tear up from the warmth and affection coming from them.

The next day, Enid wakes up to find an envelope shoved under the door of her hotel room.

Inside, there’s a crisp £20 banknote with a neatly handwritten note:

I have paid my debt.

- W.A.

Yawning, Enid stretches her body, trying to alleviate her aches after running through her choreo for the third time that morning.

She’s so incredibly bored.

There’s still six days until her performance in her semi-final group and because of the order with other countries, there’s nothing scheduled in her calendar besides a handful of interviews until five days from now when she gets to do her fun two dress rehearsals.

Weems had told her to try to have fun but not go too crazy with her time off but Enid doesn’t know what to do with this extra time.

She could go see the rest of the rehearsals in the arena but even she is bored of seeing the same routines from the other contestants by now and she doesn’t want to risk losing her voice or pulling something by overdoing it with her own practice.

She doesn’t want to bother Yoko because she knows she’s trying to spend as much time as she can with Divina before they’re separated by the 10,000 or so miles between them after the contest is over.

Her social media presence seems fine for now and she also doesn’t want to overdo it by posting too much and exposing how boring her life is.

So when she gets a message from Ajax asking if she’s free, she jumps at the chance to do anything but sit alone in her room.

She responds with, “Yes! What did you have in mind?”

Hanging out with Ajax is so easy.

He’s as chill and relaxed as he is in his performance which Enid has seen a few times.

He had suggested doing some sightseeing, getting cheap souvenirs and all, which makes it easier for them to navigate the public, being hidden within the large groups of tourists who also seem to be visiting Liverpool for Eurovision.

A heavily graffitied wall catches Enid’s eye down an alleyway that reminds her of her own music video with the colourful box room and she asks Ajax if he wants to join her in doing a short impromptu dance video with her song.

The video turns out great and they decide to post it, making sure it’s after they’ve left the area in case they have any fans trying to follow them.

Predictably, the same comments roll in saying how cute they are and asking if they are dating, which makes it awkward for Enid but she doesn’t sense any of the same awkwardness from Ajax, which helps a bit.

Maybe he hadn’t seen the comments yet.

She stops reading them when she sees a few of Ajax’s superfans commenting on how she can never be good enough for him.

They decide to get dinner together in a small restaurant where no one recognises them, luckily, because Enid does not need to add any more fuel to their new ship that has suddenly emerged.

It catches Enid off guard after dinner when Ajax seems to be full of nerves, completely different from his usual relaxed nature.

“I have two tickets for the river cruise this evening,” he says with an expectant tone.

“Would you like to go?” he pulls out the two tickets from his pocket, “Together?”

“Oh,” Enid says, looking at images of the boats printed onto the tickets in his extended hand.

“Sorry, but boats aren’t really my thing,” she says and hopes Ajax doesn’t ask for clarification.

Thankfully, Ajax only says, “Oh. OK,” and puts the tickets back into his pocket.

“Is…there anything else you want to do?” Ajax asks hopefully.

Enid’s about to suggest they go back to the hotel but she catches a flash of black, looking very similar to Wednesday, go into an alleyway behind Ajax.

She shakes her head thinking she’s seeing things, probably because she’s been thinking too much about Wednesday recently. But when she definitely sees the clear form of Tyler go into the very same alleyway, alarm bells ring through Enid’s body.

“I…have to go,” Enid says and quickly follows Tyler, ignoring Ajax calling after her.

It seems empty but when Enid turns the corner, she’s glad she followed her gut because Tyler’s unmistakable voice rings loudly through the alleyway.

“If we can’t perform then you shouldn’t be able to.”

Tyler’s usual boyish and carefree expression is nowhere to be seen and instead he’s got a deadly look on him, his body radiating with rage as he holds Wednesday’s wrist tightly in his grip.

“Hey!” Enid calls, trying to get his attention.

Tyler looks back at her but doesn’t let go of Wednesday.

Terrified by just how angry Tyler looks, Enid’s filled with concern over his grip on Wednesday’s small wrist, looking as if it may snap in his hold at any moment.

Enid fumbles, not sure what she can do before Tyler’s attention goes back to Wednesday, and she ends up grabbing a potted plant next to her to throw at Tyler’s feet, far enough for debris to hopefully not reach Wednesday.

It works with distracting Tyler and he lets go of Wednesday, Enid using this opportunity to grab Wednesday’s sleeve to drag her away.

Tyler snarls and when he attempts to close the distance between them, Enid quickly lobs two more potted plants directly at him this time, relieved when he falls to the ground in pain. 

She doesn’t waste any time to lead them out of the alleyway as quickly as possible.

They need to get to as many people as possible.

When they approach the entrance, Ajax looks at her and Wednesday in confusion and asks, “Enid? What’s wrong?”

“You’re dead!”

Hearing Tyler’s growl getting louder and closer to them, Enid panics, mind scrambling for ideas.

Opposite them, there’s a booming voice by the docks yelling, “Final boarding call for the 7.30pm evening cruise.”

Enid turns to Ajax.

“Give me the tickets!”

“What?”

“The cruise tickets!”

Flabbergasted, Ajax does as he’s told and hands the tickets over to Enid.

Eager to get away from Tyler, Enid cries out, “Come on, this way!”

“Why did you think trapping us here was a good idea?” Wednesday asks, her voice barely being heard by Enid over the wind.

For a river cruise, Enid would have thought it’d be a lot smoother sailing rather than the rockiness they’re experiencing.

“I don’t know, I panicked! I was just trying to get us away from him.”

“Again, trapping us on this vessel was the best approach?”

“I just didn’t want him to hurt you,” Enid says quietly and she looks at Wednesday’s wrist, already starting to bruise.

Trying to push through the queasiness from the rocking, Enid stands up and says, “Wait here.”

“Where else would I go?” Wednesday mutters but Enid ignores her and heads to the bar.

The queue for the bar was much longer than Enid would have liked, especially since she didn’t even want a drink but when she’s finally able to make her way back, she’s glad to see Wednesday still there.

“For your wrist,” Enid says, offering Wednesday the makeshift ice pack she made, consisting of ice from the bar wrapped in the Liverpool FC waterproof poncho she had bought earlier as a souvenir for her father.

“I don’t need it,” Wednesday says stubbornly.

Enid rolls her eyes. She doesn’t know Wednesday well but after dinner with the Addams, Enid has a good feeling and sense of what she can say to convince her.

So she takes a stab at it.

“Right, right, you’re all strong and whatever, so you don’t need it. But you don’t want Morticia and Gomez to worry when you go back and they see that you have this imprint on your wrist, right?”

Wednesday immediately tenses, Enid giving herself a pat on her back for this small victory, and Wednesday reluctantly extends her hand out for the ice pack.

Afterwards, they both sit there in silence, surrounded by the sound of the waves and the chattering and laughter of others near them.

Though the views of the city are breathtaking, Enid can’t help but steal glances over at Wednesday.

Enid silently admires the way the city lights reflect on Wednesday’s face, highlighting her accentuated cheekbones and the cute small divot in her chin that’s deepened by the way she’s resting her chin on her hand, the makeshift ice pack still held against it.

Eventually, Wednesday breaks the silence, still staring out at the river.

“Why?”

The break in the silence surprises Enid and it takes her a few seconds to take in what Wednesday had asked.

“Why don’t I want him to hurt you?” Enid asks in confusion, “Isn’t that pretty self-explanatory?”

Wednesday lets out a deep exhale of frustration.

“The public statement about Xavier and Tyler. Why did you help me?”

“Oh.”

Enid shrugs. “Because you weren’t in the wrong.”

“I know that.”

How quickly the frustration that rises in Enid is unexpected. “I know you do, but others don’t!”

Enid’s outburst seems to startle Wednesday. As well as Enid, she guesses, because even she herself didn’t expect such a strong reaction.

Enid sighs deeply. “I don’t know, I just…couldn’t stand seeing everyone say those things about you.”

There’s a brief pause before Wednesday speaks up.

“You are aware it’s unsightly, are you not? Having a hero complex.”

Enid’s cheeks flame up. It’s never fun having your insecurities brought up. 

And she feels anxious when Wednesday tears her eyes away from the river to bore holes into Enid, her expression unreadable.

“I’m not interested,” Wednesday finally says after a while.

“What?”

“Australia, Belgium and Greece. I’m uninterested in your game of Eurovision sexual bingo, or any other equivalent.”

Wednesday looks away from Enid, staring out at the river again and finishes with, “Nor becoming a notch on your bedpost.”

It takes Enid some time for the words to sink in, her jaw slack, trying to figure out where Wednesday drew this conclusion.

She thinks back to everything between them.

Wednesday had called her a philanderer before, which Enid didn’t understand.

But now, taking the time to think about their previous interactions and Wednesday’s viewpoint, she kind of gets.

Enid had been caught openly talking about how hot she thought Wednesday was (and yes, Enid had tried to bury this cringe memory) while she was sharing a cubicle with Yoko.

Then, Enid had been caught taking a photo of Wednesday while she was in the middle of doing something that can be construed as sexual. Which Enid definitely did see it as. And she still hasn’t deleted the photo. She’s no better than a man, she thinks.

And after that, Enid had been caught on top of Bianca with her shorts nearly undone.

Then, after that, Enid had been caught on something that looked similar to a date with Ajax.

Not to mention Enid had had dinner with Wednesday’s family and though Gomez had invited her first, Enid did act a bit smarmy about it.

God, she must seem like such a cretin to Wednesday.

Wednesday was probably as confused by Enid as Enid was by Wednesday’s behaviour.

Because they don’t know each other.

But Enid wished they did.

Suddenly, Enid can’t stop the giggles rising within her and bursts out into laughter, making Wednesday glower at her.

It’s kind of funny how Wednesday thinks Enid has so much game that she’s able to make her way through the contestants.

In some ways it’s actually flattering.

Enid tries her best to explain because she doesn’t want Wednesday to think she’s laughing at her.

“Just…you think that–”

“Me…and others…!”

“Together–”

“Ridiculous…!”

But Enid’s laughter immediately stops when the boat suddenly rocks roughly, presumably hitting a large wave with the wind. “Oh no.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Wednesday asks with apprehension.

“I’m fine. I just get really bad–” Enid clamps a hand over her mouth.

“...seasick.”

Luckily, Enid manages to reach the edge of the boat in time to throw up.

She feels just a bit psychotic and hysterical as she’s clutching the hotel desk bin in one hand and the other alternating between her pen and hitting the keys of her keyboard.

It’s nowhere near her best work (she blames it on her nausea) but Enid has so much fun writing it.

She calls it, je ne suis pas une crétine (je le promets) / I am not a cretin (I promise).

The next day, Enid wakes up to a knock from someone calling, “Room service,” through the door.

Confused, because she definitely did not order any, seeing as she was still asleep, she opens the door to be presented with the hotel attendant carrying in a tray of continental breakfast to place on her desk.

“Oh, I didn’t order anything,” she says to him, not wanting to pay for anything extra.

“It was ordered for you,” he says and leaves quickly before Enid can question him further.

Next to the plate of baked goods and the orange juice and tea, there’s an envelope with a neatly handwritten note inside:

Toast should help with your upset stomach.

The pastries are for if you feel better later.

- W.A.

I have paid my debt.

After she apologises to Ajax for pretty much ditching him yesterday and paying back the price of the two tickets, because she hates owing others, an idea comes to her mind.

Is it manipulative?

Maybe. Just a bit.

But Enid’s never felt so inspired.

She’s writing the most she has in the past year and she’s composing songs like she used to.

Outside of the songwriting, she’s also never wanted to spend so much time with someone.

Wednesday is fascinating.

She’s painfully cold.

To Enid.

She’s unexpectedly warm.

To her family.

She’s brutally honest.

“You are aware it’s unsightly, are you not? Having a hero complex.”

She’s devilishly deceitful.

“She said the two of you were together.”

She’s overwhelmingly breathtaking.

And Enid wants to know her more.

A lot more.

Chapter Text

“You owe me £22.80.”

Wednesday only blinks at Enid, probably wondering how she managed to find her in this coffee shop that’s so out of the way, it took Enid an extra 10 minutes trying to find the entrance.

Enid makes a note to gift Uncle Fester some tacky souvenir before they leave. If she didn’t manage to catch him in the hotel lift, she would probably still be bored in her hotel room, wondering what to do with her day.

“You originally owed me £17.80 and then you gave me £20, so I owed you back £2.20. But then we went on the cruise together and it was £25 each. So you now owe me £22.80.”

“This is asinine.”

Enid pretends she knows what that means, which she’s sure Wednesday knows she doesn’t, but Wednesday doesn’t call her out on it.

“As as…as…nine...as it might be, I’m just saying. You haven’t paid off your debt. But it’s fine. We can leave it.”

“I paid off my debt with breakfast. Did you not receive it?” Wednesday asks with furrowed brows.

Enid contemplates lying but she’s not that scheming and she doesn’t want some poor attendant to get told off.

“Was the breakfast as much as £22.80?” Enid challenges, already knowing it can’t have cost that much.

Wednesday clenches her jaw.

Though Enid wants to know Wednesday better, she feels like she can already hazard a pretty accurate guess that Wednesday absolutely hates being in debt to people, as small as it may be.

Or, at least being called out for it.

“I don’t mind if we leave it. It’s only £22.80. No big deal, I guess,” Enid says casually with an air of indifference.

She turns her back to Wednesday and prepares to leave.

She ignores how dumb this must look to others (not that any of them were looking at them, but still), her going to the coffee shop to drop these words on Wednesday and then leave again.

Enid didn’t even get a coffee or anything.

She counts down in her head and she slowly heads to the exit.

Three…

Two…

One…

Wednesday’s voice comes right on time. “What do you want?”

Enid smiles to herself.

Bingo.

“I do not understand,” Wednesday says with a frown, “I presumed the point of this outing was for me to pay for my debt. So why are you the one paying today?”

“Because I invited you out! It’s customary for whoever invited the other out to pay.”

Wednesday looks at Enid with suspicion. “That contradicts–”

“Oh look, we’re here!” Enid interrupts, glad the timing of their walk to the restaurant worked out perfectly.

For a French restaurant not actually in France, it doesn’t look too bad.

Enid knows it’s her inner arrogance and nationalism showing.

Plus, the wine is thankfully from France, so there’s at least that.

The staff are all speaking French to each other, though the servers speak in English if needed when conversing with diners.

She wants to impress Wednesday so as soon as they step in, she starts speaking completely in French with the server before they get a chance to greet them in English.

“Leave everything to me,” Enid says, giving with an exaggerated wink to Wednesday who’s only response is an eye roll.

But as soon as she opens the menu, Enid realises she had made a miscalculation.

Luckily, the server had given them both the French menu rather than the English one, because of Enid, so she's thankful she can use that as an excuse to cover up for her mistake.

Quickly thinking, Enid clears her throat and starts to take the menu from Wednesday.

“It looks like they gave us the French menu, maybe I’ll ask the server for their recommendations so you don’t have to worry about what to order.”

Wednesday frowns. “Can we not ask for the English menu?”

Enid kicks herself for the slip up, “Oh, I mean, I don’t think they have an English menu. Only French.”

Wednesday narrows her eyes as she looks at the other patrons in the restaurant, mostly British natives, who are all ordering and talking in English. “I somehow find that hard to believe.”

Following Wednesday’s gaze and inferring what she’s thinking, Enid quickly says, “Erm yes, but you know how we French are,” and tries to flag down a server. “It’s a French thing.”

Unfortunately, Wednesday doesn’t let it go.

“Let’s say there is no English menu,” Wednesday drawls, “Could you not translate the items?”

Enid struggles to think of an excuse. “Um…”

“Could it be perhaps you are not as fluent in French as you should be?”

The words are harsh but the tone seems almost…playful.

Is Wednesday teasing her?

“Of course I am!” Enid replies quickly but tries to think of what else to say, “But I mean, err…wouldn’t it be good to ask them for the recommendations anyway?”

Thankfully, the server appears at this time so Wednesday doesn’t have any time to question Enid further. Or poke holes in her logic.

Quickly glancing over to Wednesday who’s now curiously watching Enid, Enid speaks in French with the server. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“Yes, madam?”

“Please don’t look or make any kind of reaction.” Enid clears her throat and tries not to look at Wednesday. “But I really want to impress this girl in front of me, because we haven’t had the greatest start.”

To the server’s credit, he keeps looking at Enid, not displaying any signs that Enid had mentioned Wednesday.

And Wednesday is still watching Enid, her expression unchanging.

“But some of the prices here are a bit…steep for me.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Could you maybe…recommend, or pretend to recommend some dishes that are on the lower end of the price list?”

Thankfully, the server doesn’t seem to judge Enid, though who knows what he’s thinking inside, and he just says, “Of course.”

He smiles briefly at Wednesday and then goes ahead to recommend some dishes and wine that are fortunately within Enid’s price range, once in French and then again in English for Wednesday.

Enid’s so delighted that she’s able to overcome this oversight that she misses what the server had actually recommended. So when he asks her what she would like to order, she only says, “Erm…I trust your suggestions. Surprise me.”

Before he leaves, he says to Enid, “I hope your date goes well.”

“Oh. No, it’s not a date,” Enid says and quickly glances at Wednesday. “But I wish it was.”

After he leaves, Enid’s cheeks heat up at Wednesday’s dark eyes on her, still sitting there with an unreadable expression across her face.

“What?” Enid asks, feeling self conscious.

“Nothing,” Wednesday says after a while, looking away to stare at the decor around the restaurant and taking a sip of her water.

But there’s a twinkle in her eye that Enid doesn’t trust, as if she knows something Enid doesn’t and she’s entertained by it.

And it unnerves Enid.

Because even now, when they’re sitting in this French restaurant which should be in Enid’s wheelhouse, Enid still feels so…out of her element.

She wonders if that’s just the effect of being with someone as extraordinary as Wednesday.

“You know, you never explained yourself,” Enid says.

“For what?”

“The first time we met. Well…spoke. You know, I would have just paid for you if you had asked. You didn’t need to lie about anything.”

It’s subtle but Wednesday shuffles in her seat and it’s the first time Enid has seen any sort of colouration on Wednesday’s skin.

The tips of her ears are just that bit pink.

Was Wednesday embarrassed?

Enid’s about to apologise for making her feel uncomfortable because she was only teasing, really, but Wednesday gets there first.

“I dislike relying on others,” Wednesday admits quietly. “And I didn’t know you then. I couldn’t have possibly known how you may have reacted to fronting a stranger’s bill.”

Enid holds her breath. “What about now? Do you feel like you can rely on me?”

Wednesday’s eyes are dark as they stare into Enid’s.

Just as Wednesday opens her mouth to respond, she’s interrupted by the server returning with their wine.

Enid can feel the sweat dripping on her face and her stomach churning.

She can’t believe she keeps forgetting how stupid she is.

“What’s the matter?” Wednesday asks, actually looking concerned for Enid.

Enid doesn’t even want to know what she currently looks like but if she even looks half as bad as how she’s feeling, that’s already awful.

She tries to smile at Wednesday. “I’m fine.”

She takes a deep breath and picks up her fork again.

If she had more foresight, amongst other things, she should have also asked the server to not recommend any offal.

But it’s too late now and when Enid sees the rough texture of the sliced beef tongue in front of her, her hand immediately goes to cover her mouth and she rushes to the bathroom.

“I’m so sorry,” Enid says when she eventually manages to make it back to the table.

Which she now sees is cleared.

Looking up and down from the empty table back to Wednesday a few times, she probably looks ridiculous as her mind is trying to figure out what happened in her absence.

“I paid already,” Wednesday explained.

Enid’s stomach drops.

“But…I was going to pay!” 

“It’s fine.”

A wave of disappointment hits Enid. Her (albeit very dumb and childish) plan is foiled.

Wednesday’s going to say her debt is settled and she’s not going to want anything to do with Enid anymore.

But then Enid’s heart beats faster when there's a brief moment of silence before she hears Wednesday say, “You may pay for our next outing.”

Wednesday’s voice rings through Enid’s head later that night and she furiously jots in her notebook before the memory leaves her.

tu peux compter sur moi, bébé / you can count on me, baby.

Both France and Spain’s next rehearsals in the arena land on the same day, within the same-ish time slot, which Enid thanks the gods for.

The Addams are probably the only performers who usually arrive just in time for their own slot, apparently showing zero interest in watching the others.

Not in an egotistical way but just…in a very carefree manner.

As if it doesn’t matter if they win or not, and that they’re just here to have fun.

And they do look like they have a lot of fun.

As the family waits for the current act to finish, Morticia and Gomez are fondly whispering to each other, Lurch looks to be sewing a pair of trousers (what?) as he’s listening to Pugsley and Uncle Fester chatting wildly about something with their flailing hands mimicking explosions and Wednesday…

Wednesday looks the same as usual. Her eyes are closed and her earbuds are in place.

She should probably leave Wednesday alone to focus before their rehearsal but that’s not Enid’s style so she plops right down onto the seat next to Wednesday.

As soon as Enid sits down, Wednesday’s eyes still remain closed but she says, “Hello, Enid.”

“Whoa, how did you know it was me?”

Wednesday’s eyes open then and she takes her earbuds out. “You are not entirely easy to miss.” 

Butterflies fill Enid’s stomach as Wednesday’s eyes roam over her. “In a good way, right?”

Wednesday doesn’t say anything but her mouth curves up ever so slightly and Enid thinks that’s enough of a response.

By now, Enid’s used to the stage and her backing dancers, which helps her not mess up with her general lack of spatial awareness.

The last thing she needs is to fall off stage or smack one of the dancers during her performance because she just doesn’t know how far to walk or throw her arms out.

parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne (même si ça ne devrait pas) comes effortlessly to her and everything goes well.

Until she looks out and sees Wednesday’s eyes lingering on her.

She’s not sure if she’s more surprised to see Wednesday stay in the arena after her own rehearsal to watch another performance or the way she’s looking up at Enid.

Fortunately, this happens during one of the instrumental breaks and her choreo is mainly her usual freestyle dancing anyway, so it’s easy to correct when she missteps, though one of the dancers does give her a side eye when she steps a bit too close to them.

Her cheeks burn when her next line eventually comes and she suddenly feels shy.

She’s used to people watching her perform and hell, she’s even used to people (mainly drunk men) heckling and boo-ing her back at home.

But the way Wednesday’s intense gaze lands on her, watching her every move so closely with an almost entranced expression on her face, but surely not, does something to Enid.

And she looks directly at Wednesday as she sings the line of, "‘cause you and me, it works, even though it shouldn't," with it being the first time Enid is able to put a real physical being or face, to the you of her song.

Over the next few remaining days, before the semi-finals start, it becomes routine.

Enid and Wednesday ping pong over invitations, payments.

Though their plans are different, they always start and end the same way and it becomes a habit.

Something of which Enid learns that Wednesday values.

Though being punctual is something Enid finds to be tricky, she makes an effort to get there precisely six minutes (she learns that’s the ideal time for Wednesday, not too early and not too late) earlier than the time they agree to meet up for.

She picks Wednesday up from her hotel suite, where she’s staying with her family, and walks her back, where Enid is predictably invited to join for dinner with the Addams after.

Enid adjusts to the Addams’ later dinner times, making sure she doesn’t eat too much before, only to overeat with a second dinner. Which she learns from the very first night.

“Do you have intestinal issues?” Wednesday had genuinely asked with something close to concern when Enid realised that she’s now somehow landed herself in the third (fourth, if you count the dry heaving with Xavier) situation that has ended up with her throwing up around Wednesday.

Enid learns more about Wednesday, how she’s a technophobe because technology changes so quickly and she hates change.

About how her Walkman is actually devoid of cassettes and has been empty for years since she lost her old Edith Piaf collection when they moved houses. But the familiarity of having it on her as well as the noise cancelling and impression she’s not disturbable when she has her earbuds in comforts her. 

Wednesday learns more about Enid, how she’s the youngest of five siblings which worked out quite well for her with not having to contribute as much to their family farm besides the basic chores here and there, allowing her to spend more time on her songwriting.

About how she wishes her family were here to support her but also understandable because they’re busy. And Enid has to look away from Wednesday when she softly says, “Your family should never be too busy for you.”

They learn more and more about each other and they gradually lose count of who’s in debt to who.

Tonight is the first Addams dinner that Enid’s not able to make and she feels bad for having to decline.

“Sorry, I have dinner plans with Yoko.”

Wednesday doesn’t stop her reading but her hand falters ever so slightly as she’s turning the page.

“...I see,” Wednesday says. “Have fun.”

Her words aren’t exactly harsh but the tone bristles Enid and it feels foreign, not having heard this detachedness from Wednesday from the past few days.  

Enid scratches her head and wonders what she might have said or done to make Wednesday so prickly.

Was it from this afternoon when they walked through this creepy graveyard, Enid clutching onto Wednesday the entire time, to see this apparently haunted tomb uniquely shaped as a pyramid that was a huge attraction for Liverpool?

Was it because she somehow embarrassed herself in that Spanish restaurant they went to for lunch when Wednesday decided to give Enid a taste of her own medicine and converse completely with the servers in Spanish?

She knows by now if Wednesday’s in a bad mood, she’ll only close off the more you push, so Enid does her best to ignore it and play it by ear.

“Hopefully I’m able to cheer her up. Yoko’s been pretty down lately because of the whole long distance thing with Divina after all this is over.”

Wednesday’s head snaps up from her book. “She’s in a relationship with Divina?”

“Well…I’m not sure if they’ve put an official label on them yet but they’ve been spending so much time together here. I hope they work out.”

“...I see,” Wednesday says. “Have fun.”

It’s the exact same words Wednesday had said before but somehow it seems much warmer the second time round.

Somehow, Enid finds herself joining Yoko, Divina, Kent, Ajax and Bianca for a walk through Liverpool.

The group is relaxed and they have some creative fun with their wacky disguises as they take stupid selfies and videos and post the ones minus the disguises.

At some point, they decide to break up the group so it’s easier to move amongst the throng of ever growing tourists who are arriving closer to the semi-finals and Grand Final dates.

Yoko and Divina, of course, go together and Enid ends up being paired with Ajax, which she is grateful for.

Because as nice as Kent is, Enid still finds it hard to decipher his English with his accent and though Bianca doesn’t make a big deal about their initial awkward introduction, Enid’s not spoken to her much since then.

She walks through the streets with Ajax, going to areas they didn’t manage to hit up before and when they pass by a vintage store, Enid’s eye is caught by their cassette collection in their window.

“Hey,” she says to Ajax, “can we quickly stop by here?”

It ends up taking Enid way longer than she expected but it’s finally done.

She hopes Wednesday will like it.

Enid wonders if something had happened with Wednesday’s final dress rehearsal earlier today.

Because when Enid went to pick Wednesday up, she had seemed off, to the point where it looked like Wednesday was contemplating staying back and not coming out with Enid at all.

Enid’s attempts to spin up conversation also go nowhere.

“Are you feeling OK?”

“Yes.”

“Did you need us to go back?”

“No.”

“How was the dress rehearsal?”

“Fine.”

“Other than going to the museum and art gallery, was there anything else you wanted to do today?”

“No.”

“Are you all ready for the semi-final tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Not easily deterred, Enid tries to keep her enthusiasm and not think about how little time they have left together (something she’s been reminded of by Yoko when she talks about Divina) because she wants to make the most of what time they do have.

It’s not that Wednesday’s a chatty person, but Enid had at least expected her to go off on her little anecdotes or random trivia about the histories of the art pieces or artists.

By the time they leave the gallery and Wednesday has barely said more than three words to Enid, though Enid had attempted to keep the conversation going, Enid’s finally reached the end of her patience.

“OK, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

It was subtle, but Enid heard the slight hesitation before Wednesday’s response.

Frustrated, twofold because of Wednesday’s non-communication and because they're running out of time together and they're wasting it on things like this, Enid snaps.

“Look, if you didn’t want to hang out with me today, then you could have just said so, rather than being passive aggressive about it the entire time.”

Not even looking at Enid, Wednesday only says, “Fine,” and leaves.

Enid takes in a deep breath and lets it out again.

She wonders if she was too harsh. It seemed like Wednesday had something on her mind. 

Spain’s semi-final was tomorrow, maybe Wednesday was worried about it? Though the entirety of Los Locos Addams have always had this devil-may-care attitude to them with the rehearsals.

Enid herself already feels the oncoming nerves for her own semi-final coming up in three days, so she can’t imagine how nervous she would be if it were tomorrow.

Should Enid have tried harder to ask Wednesday what was up with her?

She sighs sadly, thinking about how she didn’t even get to give Wednesday her gift.

“Erm…sorry to bother you, but are you Enid Sinclair?”

She turns around and sees a small group of young girls curiously staring at her.

Though she had been getting used to being recognised in Paris after the initial announcement of her song being selected for Eurovision, she hadn’t actually had anyone approach her before.

Sure, she had been wearing disguises here (clearly, her current one wasn’t too efficient) but she supposes she should have anticipated something like this with her steadily growing popularity, especially closer to the live performance dates.

But it still catches her off guard.

“Hi!” she says, immediately turning on her public smile. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh my god! I knew it!” one of the girls screeches.

Enid suppresses the urge to grimace at the sudden increased volume and only keeps her smile as they all ask for selfies with her. 

Not surprisingly, the commotion catches the attention of others around them and before Enid can process it, there’s suddenly a mob around her.

Everyone is pushing and shoving, trying to get to her, there’s flashes of cameras everywhere and her ears feel like they’re about to burst from the screaming and yelling of her name.

There’s too much going on, too many hands on her, pulling and grabbing, and Enid feels dizzy and lightheaded from the overwhelming swarm.

She can’t even speak, although if she could, she wouldn’t even know what to say and she doubts anyone can hear her over all the other shouting.

Just as she feels like she may actually pass out, and how embarrassing that would be, she hears her name called by one single familiar voice cutting through the others and feels a warm hand clasping her own.

Enid could recognise that voice from anywhere.

And before she knows it, she’s being yanked out of the swarm and can only obey Wednesday when she says, “Run.”

Enid’s desperately catching her breath, hands on her knees, as Wednesday peeks out from the alleyway they’re currently hiding in.

“T–Thanks,” Enid eventually says when she’s able to breathe again.

She doesn’t know what she would have done if Wednesday hadn’t saved her.

Though she had been so proud of gaining recognition and her soaring popularity, that was terrifying.

She lost complete control over her body, unable to do anything as the horde kept closing in on her.

She never wants to go through that again.

Still keeping an eye out, Wednesday says, “They’re still looking around for you. They probably won’t move for a while.”

Enid sighs in disappointment. After that, all she wants to do is to go back to her hotel room.

“So…what do we do? Stay here until they go?” Enid asks warily, looking at the dimly lit alleyway with caution.

Wednesday looks around a few times before her eyes stop on something in the distance.

“No. Let’s go somewhere else.”

Luckily, at this time of night, the Wheel of Liverpool isn’t busy, so they are able to get on unnoticed.

If the attendant recognised them, they didn’t say anything or seem to care.

Enid looks excitedly out of the window, admiring the view of the city.

“Wednesday, come look!”

“I’m fine here.”

Turning around to make a point about how it’s a waste to be on a Ferris wheel but not take advantage of the view, Enid’s not prepared for the sight of Wednesday looking pale and clammy.

“Wednesday? Are you OK?” Enid asks with concern, worried she’s feeling ill from the mob or something. She knows Wednesday hates crowds much more than Enid does.

“I’m fine,” Wednesday insists and immediately closes her eyes when the pod rattles and shakes a bit, hands coming out to tightly grip onto the sides.

Realisation hits Enid.

“Wednesday,” she says slowly, “Are you… scared of heights?”

Wednesday’s eyes immediately open. “I would not be afraid of such trivial things.”

Her voice is steady but her face betrays her and her wide eyes look cautiously side to side.

“Hmm…so if you’re not scared of heights, then surely you wouldn’t mind if I…” Enid starts.

Wednesday looks at Enid in anticipation.

“...did this?”

And Enid starts jumping.

The pod rattles and shakes violently in time with her jumps and Wednesday’s face falls so drastically, it almost looks comical.

“Fine. I’m scared of heights. Now may you cease with your incessant attempt on plummeting us onto the ground?”

Enid immediately stops and takes a seat next to Wednesday, trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Enid chuckles, “I just can’t believe of all the things that could scare you, it’s this.”

Wednesday’s voice is so quiet that Enid barely hears her when she says, “Everyone has their own fears.”

Instantly, Enid feels bad for teasing her, especially after Wednesday had helped her.

“Thanks again, for saving me from the stampede.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Raising a brow, Enid asks, “Are you that popular in Spain?”

And then she realises she probably shouldn’t have phrased it like that because it sounds a bit rude. She had meant because of Wednesday’s lack of social media presence. But Wednesday doesn’t seem to take any offence at her comment.

“My parents have been singers for a long time.”

Enid remembers Morticia and Gomez’s classically trained voices and thinks that makes sense.

“Hmm…the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then,” Enid says, thinking about the general family resemblance and their cute little musical group.

She sometimes wonders what it would have been like if her own mother was in the music industry. If she liked music the way Enid does.

She feels like maybe her relationship with her mother would be less contentious and she may understand Enid’s passion and love for music more.

There’s silence from Wednesday and when Enid looks over at her, she’s surprised to see Wednesday looking down, her hands in tight fists.

Enid wonders if she said something wrong with the way Wednesday is reacting.

“Wednesday?”

Wednesday looks up then, her face stony. “I’m nothing like my parents.”

It’s not something Enid expects from Wednesday so she doesn’t really know what to say.

“My parents are typical Spaniards. Even my mother who wasn’t and had married into my father’s family…is.”

Wednesday frowns in frustration at her words, unhappy with the phrasing but Enid thinks she understands.

“My family is passionate. Lively. Loving. Just like how Spaniards are supposed to be.”

Enid doesn’t know where Wednesday is going with this so she says nothing and only listens.

“However, I am not. I am selfish and I put my own interests first. I’ve always been like this. I have always felt different. From my family, my culture. I never feel like I’m enough.”

Tears prick Enid’s eyes at Wednesday’s admission, and when she hears Wednesday’s gentle trailing words of, “I never feel like I fit in anywhere,” Enid can’t stop herself from reaching out and placing her hand on top of Wednesday’s. 

Wednesday doesn’t pull back.

“I’ve never felt like I fit in either,” Enid lets out a sad laugh. “Which is why none of my family came with me to England. As you know.

“So, let’s be exceptions together. Maybe…we don’t fit in anywhere, but at least the two of us can fit in together. With each other.

“And Wednesday, you are enough. More than enough,” Enid breathes out.

Enid grips Wednesday’s hand tighter.

She thinks about the Wednesday she’s come to know. All the different sides to her and Enid feels like she could spend hours talking about how special Wednesday is.

In the end, Enid blurts out, “I wouldn’t want you to change a single thing about yourself. At least to me, you’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

There’s nothing but silence then and Enid’s heart stammers wildly as her cheeks flame up when she realises what she had actually said.

She glances at Wednesday who’s sitting so still, her eyes still looking down at her lap.

Wednesday’s voice is quiet and Enid only manages to catch the tail end of what she says.

“...flirt.”

“Um…sorry I didn’t catch that.”

Wednesday lets out a deep exhale and her eyes snap up to Enid’s with fury.

“I said you’re a shameless flirt.”

Enid’s jaw drops. “What?”

Wednesday snatches her hand back from Enid to stand up and pace as much as she can in their small pod, uncharacteristically spitting out her words quickly.

“You’re unruly and loud, lack self-control and do and say whatever, whenever you want.”

“You’re intolerable, dress in too many bright colours and your dancing is atrocious.”

“You’re pushy and forceful, yet somehow have managed to charm my entire family.”

“You’re confusing. You do and say things that I don’t know what to make of.”

And then Wednesday stops to look directly at Enid, her jaw clenched tightly.

“And you’re a shameless flirt. You sit here, saying all these things to me, touching me the way you do and looking at me like that when,” Wednesday pauses, swallowing hard, “you already have someone else.”

There’s too many words for Enid to digest, too many feelings running through her at the unexpected appearance of Wednesday’s version of a ramble. But her focus is only on the last thing Wednesday had said.

“What? What are you talking about? I don’t have someone.”

Wednesday scoffs. “I’m not an idiot, Enid. I know everyone has been talking about it. Today. At rehearsals. Online. Or so I’ve heard.”

“What? Talking about what?”

“You and Ajax. Specifically, your date from yesterday.”

“What? What date? I didn’t go on a date.”

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “If there was no date then how would you explain the photos of the date that never happened?”

“What photos?” Enid asks in confusion and then shakes her head because she’s tired of sounding like a parrot repeating herself.

Her mind scrambles for what Wednesday could possibly be talking about and takes out her phone to check her social media accounts.

Her face pales when she sees so many notifications, ones she had ended up muting yesterday.

She now knows what Wednesday’s talking about.

Somehow, people had recognised Enid and Ajax yesterday, after they had split with the group and there are photos of them walking around as they laughed and joked together which fed fuel to rumours that the two of them are now dating.

Out of context, Enid admits, they do look quite cosy together, with some photos, especially from the angles taken, looking like they’re whispering sweet nothings to each other or even kissing.

She groans in frustration and figures it’s just her luck for something to blow up on the one day she muted her notifications.

“I’m sorry,” Enid fumbles, “I’ve just seen this so I’m still kind of trying to process everything, which is pretty overwhelming right now. But just know that none of this is true.”

“How could you not have seen or heard about this earlier? You’re perpetually glued to your mobile device.”

Enid sighs and shoves her hand into her pocket, taking out the case to hand over to Wednesday. “Because I was busy with this.”

Wednesday hesitantly takes the case. “What’s this?”

“OK, so, I was out yesterday with Ajax. But! It wasn’t a date. And actually, we were out with Yoko, Divina, Kent and Bianca too but then we broke off into groups–anyway! It doesn’t matter.

“After it was just me and Ajax on our platonic stroll, we walked past this store, and you can actually see us in the store in one of the photos, because I saw they had cassette tapes.”

Enid points to the case containing the tape now in Wednesday’s hand. “I bought that for you. It’s an Edith Piaf tape. I don’t know which ones you had before from your collection but I thought you might like it.

“And anyway, that kind of ties in to why I missed all this. I had my notifications muted. The tape was in a pretty bad condition when I got it but the owner was super nice and told me what I had to do to clean it up so I just…was busy with that last night and I didn’t want to be distracted by anything else.”

The cleaning had definitely taken Enid way longer than she would like to admit, especially when she had to look up an embarrassingly large number of how-to videos, so she omits how long it actually took, hoping she’s disclosed enough.

Wednesday is silent as she opens the blank case (unfortunately, the original case for the tape was lost) and takes out the tape, turning it over in her hand.

“I’m not with Ajax,” Enid says quickly before adding, “Or anyone else.”

She bites her lip, trying to stop them from trembling and to muster enough courage to get the words out of her mouth.

The gentle way Wednesday is looking at the tape gives Enid the push she needs.

“The only person I’ve been interested in all this time,” Enid swallows, “has been you.”

She hears Wednesday’s breath catch and her hearing dulls as Wednesday slowly looks up at her.

Enid gulps at the sight of Wednesday’s expression.

Her eyes are hooded, her lips slightly parted and Enid can see the gentle dust of pink across her cheeks.

Her bangs that hang over her dark eyes are a bit mussed from their quarrel earlier and there's a piece of stray hair that’s begging for Enid to brush back behind her ear.

So she does.

There’s a sharp intake of air from Wednesday when Enid’s fingers touch her cheek, the skin beneath heating up on contact.

Wednesday’s cheek feels soft and warm as Enid presses the palm of her hand against it further and when Wednesday doesn’t show any signs of protest, Enid leans down.

She moves slowly, wanting to give Wednesday every opportunity and chance to move away and the butterflies in her stomach explode when she sees Wednesday’s eyelids flutter shut.

Enid feels intoxicated from the scent of Wednesday when she’s close enough to feel her breath on her lips, their noses brushing against each other.

Then, there’s a sudden jolt of the pod that causes them both to jump.

Enid holds onto Wednesday’s arms, trying to help steady her.

“Are you OK?” Enid asks.

Wednesday only nods before slowly pulling back from Enid and sitting down.

She looks away, resting her chin on her hand and softly says, “I should rest. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Disappointment fills Enid but she nods.

They spend the rest of the ride sitting in silence.

Chapter Text

Her notebook is actually full, astounding her.

When Enid had originally packed for Liverpool, she hadn’t anticipated writing at all, let alone this much.

After her near-kiss with Wednesday, her fingers are aching and her body is buzzing with energy as she looks around her room, frantically searching for something to write on.

Worst case, she can use her phone, she guesses. But it’s just not the same.

Rummaging through her desk, the £20 banknote from Wednesday, the same one Enid had decidedly refused to use and cash in on, stares back at her.

She takes out her pen.

The words flow out easily as she thinks about the feel of Wednesday’s warm cheek under her fingertips and Wednesday’s breath on her lips.

Enid starts and doesn’t stop until the banknote is filled completely.

And a few hours later, though Enid’s bone-tired, she somehow feels invigorated at the same time.

Her feeling of satisfaction and pride shatters when her phone chimes, receiving a message from her mother.

MAMAN

Your uncle will be holding a birthday celebration in four days. I told him we will all be attending.

It’s not news that her mother never thought Enid would get past the semi-finals but the blunt dismissal still stings her.

It’s weird because rationally, Enid knows her entry is a fan favourite and her dance, as well as Wednesday’s, is still going strong on TikTok.

But…anything can happen during her performance and with her mother’s words, she can’t help all of her self-doubts from rising up.

She stares blankly at the message for a few moments before throwing her phone onto her desk in frustration.

And the reminder of how little time she has left here, especially if she actually doesn’t make it through to the final, makes her heart ache.

She takes the banknote, now filled with her scribbles, and closes her eyes, holding it against her chest.

It’ll act as the perfect memento and reminder of Wednesday when they part ways after the contest.

She can pin it to her board on the wall right next to her bed at home so she can fall asleep thinking of the soft look Wednesday had given her. The way her eyes closed as Enid leaned in.

And she can dream of Wednesday.

Selfishly, she also wants Wednesday to have a reminder of her so when they’re no longer together, they can still cherish these memories they have of each other.

Looking down at the banknote in her hand, she thinks.

Maybe…

She opens the desk drawer, taking out the cassette recorder she had purchased alongside the Edith Piaf tape that she had set aside in it.

She clears her throat, hits Record and she sings.

1 day until Semi-Finals 1, 3 days until Semi-Finals 2, 5 days until the Grand Final.

It seems like it’s been a long time coming but it’s the day of the first semi-finals and Enid hopes Wednesday had managed to get some rest after what had happened last night.

She doesn’t know if she should bother Wednesday today if she’s attempting to focus on her performance for tonight. Though Enid has no doubt Spain will be a shoo-in.

But selfishly, Enid wants to see Wednesday and show her her work from last night.

And she figures Wednesday will just tell her to go away if she’s not in the mood.

She had checked the rehearsal schedule and Wednesday and her family should have been done with their final dress rehearsal by now, resting for the six-ish hours they have before the live performance tonight.

Enid knocks on their hotel room door, hoping Wednesday’s in and that she’s not disturbing her.

Gomez answers the door with a smile that only grows when he sees Enid there.

“Mi pequeña nube tormentosa! ” Gomez calls behind him before other quick Spanish flies out of his mouth and all Enid can recognise is her name.

“Come, come in, Enid. Wednesday will be right out,” Gomez says and opens the door wider to let Enid in.

Enid doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing. The fact that Gomez didn’t even need to ask Enid for him to know she’s there for Wednesday (though, why else would she be there?) or the fact that she’s looking so awkward, standing there so rigidly with a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

Almost as if she were picking up Wednesday for a prom date or something.

God, she wishes she went to prom with Wednesday. She knows Wednesday would look so beautiful and—

“Hi,” Enid breathes out when Wednesday emerges in front of her.

“Enid.”

Not knowing what to say because they kind of ended the night awkwardly yesterday (because what did it mean?) and not actually wanting to bother Wednesday too much because of her performance tonight, Enid blurts out, “Er…these are for you!”

Enid thrusts the bouquet out so suddenly, it almost makes Wednesday take a step back at the sudden movement. But luckily, Wednesday doesn’t and Enid squeaks when Wednesday’s fingers brush hers to take the flowers.

Which is kind of silly because they nearly kissed last night, which is way more than brushing fingers, though…Wednesday had pulled away, or at least changed her mind after she had initially seemed quite receptive, so does this mean that Enid’s rejected or–

And so comes the word vomit.

“For like…luck for tonight. Not…! That you or your family need luck! Cause I’m sure you’ll do amazing! Everyone loves you, including me—I mean…! Love you and your family’s music and—but I mean, what’s not to love, right? Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Glancing over Wednesday’s shoulder, she can see Lurch and Morticia pretending to converse over their newspaper while Gomez and Pugsley are openly gaping at them, munching on some bread, as if they were watching a telenovela.

But Wednesday doesn’t seem to pay them any mind and she only looks at the flowers with a soft expression on her face, similar to the one from last night, which makes Enid’s nerves frazzle more.

The silence from Wednesday continues, causing Enid’s word vomit to continue.

“I got you the darkest flowers they had because you like black but they didn’t have only black flowers so, I’m sorry there’s also red in there but I hope it’s OK anyway and I don’t even know if you like flowers at all because it’s a bit weird giving things that are going to die so soon as a gift but you kind of like things like that so maybe it’s–”

“Enid, breathe.”

And Enid does.

Which was good advice. Solid, really.

Before she can forget, Enid takes out the cassette in her pocket and hands it over to Wednesday. “Also, for you.”

There’s a pause as Wednesday asks, “Another tape?”

“Ah, yes, but this one is different. Because, um…I wrote it.”

And because Enid can’t seem to stop her rambling, she adds, “For you. I wrote it for you. The song on it, that is. So you should listen to it. If you want.”

Wednesday doesn’t say anything, only looking down at the tape and Enid inwardly cringes thinking she should have bought a case for it.

“You wrote a song for me?” Wednesday asks in the gentlest voice Enid thinks she’s ever heard.

“I mean, sometimes I can’t sleep if my mind is filled with ideas and things so…yeah.”

“It’s blank. Have you not given it a title?”

Trust Wednesday to be observant enough to notice that Enid didn’t write anything on the cassette label and ask her a question she was hoping she wouldn’t.

“I have,” Enid hesitates but she can at least allow this much honesty for Wednesday. “It’s called, est-ce que tu vas m'oublier? ”

It might be the reflection from the harsh hotel room light but Wednesday’s eyes look glassy as her eyes snap up at Enid.

After a few moments, Wednesday asks quietly, “What does it mean?”

Are you going to forget me?

“Nothing much,” Enid tries to shrug off quickly. “Just…some dumb French thing. Hard to translate.”

She had thought about what would happen if Wednesday was curious enough to try to translate her song. But at least if the lyrics aren’t written down then it’d be harder?

Not that Enid can imagine Wednesday doing something as tedious and mundane as translating something line by line by ear anyway. Especially if she doesn’t like technology.

And even if Wednesday does, by the time she figures out what the meaning behind the song is…Enid will be long gone.

It might be her mind playing tricks but Enid almost sees disappointment flash through Wednesday’s face before she looks away from Enid and down at the tape.

“Why in French?”

Because I don’t want you to know the extent of how I feel about you.

Coward, her mind whispers to her.

“I don’t write songs in English,” Enid says instead.

It’s not untrue. Enid never writes songs in English.

Maybe if she wasn’t so scared of telling Wednesday what she thinks and how she feels, she would have.

And if Wednesday had asked her to…she would have in a heartbeat.

She finds herself unable to say no to Wednesday.

“Well…I just wanted to drop these off. I’ll let you rest before your big performance later.”

Wednesday hesitates, as if she’s not sure if she should say something but eventually she just nods.

Remembering her quick Spanish search on her phone before she came over, Enid repeats the words in her head to wish Wednesday luck.

Buena suerte. Buena suerte. Buena suerte.

As she crosses the door threshold, Enid turns back to Wednesday, pulling up her most confident voice and waves to her before hollering out, “Boo-ur-nur soo-ur-tay!”

The silence that follows seems extremely long and this time, even Morticia and Lurch don’t bother with pretending they’re not eavesdropping on the both of them to join Gomez and Pugsley in staring openly at the two of them.

But Enid doesn’t have time to react to them when she hears the loud exhale and choke from Wednesday.

And Enid’s face is red as she leaves with the image of Wednesday’s slightly shaking form holding her hand firmly over her mouth.

Well, Enid can live with the embarrassment if it goes hand in hand with the knowledge that she had made Wednesday Addams laugh.

Other than Spain, Australia’s also in the first semi-final so Enid drops by Yoko’s room to wish her luck too.

And Enid really thinks Yoko needs it with the way she looks like crap.

Apparently she had been out most of the night with Divina, trying to make the most of their time together.

Hearing that, Enid asks Yoko if she wouldn’t have rather rested for her performance tonight.

And Enid laughs when Yoko pointedly looks at her and says, “After the night I had with Divina? Absolutely not,” as well as her laid-back words of, “And Eurovision, it’s all just a bit of fun, innit?”

Prepped with a much better disguise this time, after having learnt her lesson from before, Enid sneaks into the audience seats of the arena to watch the semi-final.

There’s a few curious glances given to her when she arrives, mostly due to her standing and not going to an assigned seat which they probably attribute to her sneaking in without a ticket, but other than that, everyone’s attention is fully on the performances.

There’s contestants in her group performing in two days that are watching from backstage or the contestant area, but Enid wants to see the show from the eyes of the audience. And the atmosphere is always different from the audience.

It’s always more lively, energetic, and vibrant.

It’s one of the reasons she loves performing, being able to elicit this kind of response from others.

The analyst in her notes down places where performers have made a mistake; a voice crack here, a flat note there. But overall, everyone seems to be doing a great job.

She’s proud to see their hard work pay off. Mostly.

She missed seeing the dress rehearsal for them yesterday because she was catching up on sleep from the cleaning of the tape and though she’d seen the music videos for them all, it’s different seeing them live with their different outfits.

And when it’s finally time for Spain’s performance, Enid has absolutely no critique for them.

Because while they were never performing super seriously in the rehearsals, it’s completely different tonight.

They’re at their best, not that Enid had expected anything less and their outfits are stunning.

Similar to their music video, but not quite the same, Wednesday’s wearing a lacy black dress and her hair is also up, though with a different style.

And not unexpectedly, Enid can’t seem to take her eyes off of Wednesday until she’s in the dark, clearing the stage for the next act.

When all the acts have performed and they open the lines for public voting, Enid doesn’t hesitate to open up the app on her phone to give Spain a vote.

Not that she thinks they’ll need it.

Of course, it’s not surprising that Spain gets through easily.

Though they announce the 13 of the competing 20 acts that go through in no particular order, they end up announcing Spain second and Enid knows they would have received a very high, if not the best score.

Making her way backstage, Enid enthusiastically congratulates Yoko and Bianca, seeing Australia and Belgium had qualified too.

“I can’t believe I made it, mate,” Yoko snorts out hysterically, probably running on only three hours of sleep.

“I think we all share the same sentiment,” Bianca teases, earning herself a response of, “Rack off!” from Yoko.

It’s easy to stay with the playful bantering between the three of them but Wednesday is the only one Enid wants to see.

She spots Wednesday immediately, her family dressed in the only black amongst the other colourful acts.

She’s still dressed from her performance and Enid has to give herself a stern talking to when she finds herself staring at Wednesday’s crossed bare legs that only makes her dress sit higher on her legs.

Don’t look at her legs. Don’t look at her legs. Don’t look at her legs. 

She has a mini heart attack when she hears her name called from behind. 

“Jambes! ” Enid ends up exclaiming in surprise and her face heats up when she realises what she had said.

Turning around, she sees Gomez look a bit startled but she quickly recovers and congratulates him as they walk together to the rest of the family.

On the way, she vaguely hears Yoko ask Bianca what jambes means and when Bianca tells her, Yoko cackles loudly, wriggling her brows at Enid and Wednesday pointedly and running her hands up and down her own legs as if showcasing them.

At Bianca’s confused expression, Yoko whispers to her, presumably to fill her in and Enid’s face heats up more when Bianca seems to understand and throws Enid a smirk, looking between her and Wednesday.

Gesturing to them to cut it out and stop being so obvious because she’s literally walking next to Wednesday’s father, Enid manages to fix her face to a neutral expression by the time they reach the Addams.

Wednesday looks even more beautiful up close and Enid is not prepared for the fluster that overtakes her.

She ends up opening and closing her mouth a few times but no words come out as Wednesday looks up at her expectantly.

And Enid gives herself a massive pat on her back when she’s able to keep her eyes on Wednesday’s and not down at her legs which remain just at the bottom of her line of sight. 

“Hi,” Enid says lamely.

“Enid.”

“Do you have any plans for celebrating? Because if not, we should definitely celebrate.”

“Yes, we were planning on–”

Morticia interrupts Wednesday, placing her hands onto Enid’s shoulders, “No plans. Wednesday is all yours after our press conference in 10 minutes.”

And Enid blushes when Morticia gives her a look and whispers, “It may be worth noting that Wednesday has no curfew.”

“What did my mother say to you?” Wednesday asks with suspicion when they meet just past midnight.

Unfortunately, or maybe it's for the best, Wednesday’s legs are now covered.

“Oh,” Enid says slowly, trying to think of an excuse. “I don’t remember.”

Because what can Enid say?

That her mother gave her permission to keep Wednesday out all night?

Doing…implied things?

When all they had was this near-kiss that Wednesday kind of rejected Enid with?

Plus, it’s probably weird to bring that up when they’re standing in Enid’s room, just the two of them.

Together.

Alone.

Enid had wanted to suggest literally any other place but she couldn’t really think of where.

With Spain going through and the recent semi-final performances, there’s going to be even more eyes on them than usual so Enid had thought they should probably stay somewhere more private.

Enid could have gone to Wednesday’s hotel suite but she doesn’t really know how to interact with Morticia after her comment.

Yoko mentioned there’s an afterparty but judging by how wild they were planning for it to be and Enid wonders how Yoko has so much energy for all this partying, she didn’t think it was going to be Wednesday’s cup of tea.

“Don’t go too crazy tonight,” she had jokingly told Yoko. “You wouldn’t want to injure yourself or anything before the final.”

“Enid, Enid, Enid. If the fates decide it’s my time to go tonight, then I will die happily doing what I love the most.”

“And what’s that? Drinking until you pass out?”

“Having fun by drinking until I pass out with all of the new friends I made around me. Minus you, that is. But that’s fine. You go have your own fun tonight with your new friend. And her legs.”

“Yoko!”

Not to mention things have been awkward between her and Ajax, ever since the dating rumours. Made even more awkward when Enid had publicly posted that they were only friends to be crystal clear at the same time as Ajax’s PR team gave a vague post that was certainly meant to neither confirm or deny it.

And there was also the sore topic of Wednesday possibly still thinking of Enid as some kind of womaniser or playboy out to get her.

Wednesday narrows her eyes at Enid but she doesn’t say anything as Enid gives her her best innocent look.

And Enid uses this opportunity to pop the champagne bottle she’d bought specifically for Wednesday.

“Oh wait, I should have asked if you even wanted to drink any,” Enid says in horror as she looks between the cork and the now open bottle.

Would Wednesday think she’s being predatory? Inviting her to her room alone at night and then further suggesting drinking alcohol–

“I mean,” Enid stutters and waves the bottle towards the fridge, “I can just put it back in the fridge. I don’t have a bottle stopper but I can probably just cover it with something like tissue and it shouldn’t be too bad though it’ll be oxidised–”

“Enid,” Wednesday interrupts, “I would not be adverse to drinking some champagne with you.”

“But you know you don’t have to, right? I don’t want you to feel like–”

“Enid. Pour the champagne.”

When Enid said they should celebrate, she didn’t really have an idea or plan on how.

Yoko’s been sharing photos and videos of their party and Enid definitely knows it was a good shout on her behalf to not ask Wednesday to meet there.

It looked overwhelming to Enid so she can’t imagine how Wednesday would feel.

Eventually, their version of celebrating ends up being them just drinking champagne and…talking.

Pretty much like how they usually hang out.

Though they’ve never really hung out in Enid’s room before and she feels self-conscious, hoping she’s tidied away anything else embarrassing, outside of her plushies. 

She gives Wednesday an extremely short tour of her hotel room.

“Here’s the main room. There’s the bed, desk, chairs and TV that came with the room. And here’s all my stuff. I brought over my keyboard from home and all the shit on top of the desk besides the landline phone is also mine from home.”

“Here’s the bathroom. There’s the toilet, sink and bathtub that came with the room.”

“Absolutely riveting,” Wednesday deadpans, “I can see how you are a songwriter. You have a way with your words.”

When Enid snorts as if it’s the funniest thing she’s heard, she knows the champagne is getting to her.

Wednesday gestures to all of the Eurovision stickers accumulated across the years that are stuck to Enid’s notebook and her keyboard. “I didn’t realise you were such a big fan of this contest.”

Enid mock gasps. “As a European, how can you not? Isn’t it the most exciting thing ever?”

Wednesday doesn’t say anything, her gaze penetrating deep into Enid, making Enid feel a bit dizzy.

Although that could also be the champagne.

Running her finger along the stickers on her keyboard, making Enid unreasonably jealous of an inanimate object, Wednesday asks after a while, “Why did you enter Eurovision this year?”

Enid doesn’t hesitate with her response. “To win, of course! Isn’t that why you and your family entered?”

Wednesday doesn’t answer, and before Enid can tease Wednesday about how she doesn’t need to be embarrassed about admitting to wanting to win only for Enid to eventually beat her, her phone chimes.

“Holy shit, you got the highest points!” Enid exclaims, turning her phone around to show Wednesday the now revealed individual scores from tonight.

“Hmm…179. Not bad, I suppose.”

“Are you serious? That’s an amazing score.”

“All relative, perhaps.”

“Even if it’s relative, that’s still extremely good! It’s one of the highest public scores that I remember from the past few years.”

There’s a brief pause from Wednesday before she tentatively looks at Enid, her deep gaze mesmerising Enid. “You really like Eurovision, don’t you?”

Enid beams, thinking the answer should be obvious.

“Of course! It’s the one thing I look the most forward to every year. And to win it…that would be…just, wow.”

Grinning at Wednesday, she adds, "It's the only thing I've wanted since I was 9. To win Eurovision for France and prove everyone wrong. Everyone who said I couldn't do it."

Holding Enid’s stare, Wednesday says, “What would you do if…”

Then suddenly, she looks away from Enid, exhaling deeply. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Enid raises her brow at her but when Wednesday doesn’t clarify or continue, Enid doesn’t push.

“Anyway. I need to get through the semi-final first. I’m kind of jealous you’ve already done it. Annoying that they removed our direct entries to the final this year, right?”

“I suppose it would have been nice to recoup the additional time we spent on the extra round and associated rehearsals.”

“Yeah?" Enid teases. "But then we probably wouldn't have spent so much time together if we arrived here later.”

She doesn’t expect Wednesday’s reply of, “I suppose that's true.”

Enid’s mind is blank and she awkwardly looks away from Wednesday, heart beating wildly. She changes the topic.

“How about…a prize? A reward. For getting through. Motivation for me to catch up with you now that you’re through.”

Wednesday frowns. “Qualifying is simple. You have a 65% chance. Up to 68% now that the UK are no longer running within your group. Also, you are aware your entry is very popular with the public already, are you not? No need for a reward.”

The warmth in Enid's chest spreads hearing Wednesday's confidence in her.

“How about if I get the highest score for my group too?” Enid suggests.

She was actually kind of half-serious and didn’t think Wednesday would humour her so she’s surprised when she hears Wednesday’s response.

“What do you want?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol but Enid swears Wednesday’s eyes soften as she waits patiently for Enid’s reply.

And the way she’s looking at Enid so delicately like that doesn’t help the hammering of Enid’s heart in her chest.

Wednesday’s cheeks are just a bit rosy from the champagne and Enid’s close enough to see the shadows of Wednesday’s eyelashes across her cheeks.

It all reminds her of last night and just how close she had been to kissing her.

Wednesday’s lips look so soft and Enid wonders what they would taste like.

Enid breathes out, “I want…”

The knock on her door wakes Enid up.

“Ughhh…”

She feels like shit.

There are no other words.

She vaguely remembers bringing out a second bottle of champagne out for her and Wednesday but she’s pretty sure she’s the one who had most of it, judging by her familiar pounding headache.

In hindsight, it was a pretty dumb idea but Enid was having so much fun last night, she never wanted it to end. And she was genuinely so happy for Wednesday and her family’s high public score.

Nearly tripping over her shoes, she makes it over to the door, wondering who could be at her door.

Taking a quick look back around her room, to confirm there’s nothing out of the ordinary, she also hopes she didn’t do or say anything too embarrassing last night. She doesn’t even remember when Wednesday had left.

When she opens the door, she’s taken aback by the hotel attendant holding a tray out with a cloche plate cover, presumably covering a plate of food, a teapot set and a set of cutlery wrapped in a napkin. 

“Room service.”

“Oh, I didn’t order anything.”

“It was ordered for you,” he says and leaves just as quickly as the time before.

Under the napkin, similar to last time, there’s an envelope with a neatly handwritten note inside:

For your predictable hangover.

It should be needless to say, however, knowing you enjoy sentimental notions…good luck for tomorrow.

- W.A.

Chapter Text

The Full English Breakfast Wednesday had ordered for Enid turns out to be a godsend as Enid’s stomach happily settles with the food and her headache isn’t anything a few painkillers can’t solve.

By the time she gets to the arena for her first dress rehearsal, Enid is feeling able to function again. Mostly.

The rehearsal goes as planned. Mostly.

Her outfit is beautiful.

While she had a cape made up of the French flag in her original music video, the live performance version is much more fancy and extravagant.

Rather than having the colours printed on it, there are individual sequins sewn in to make up the flag.

However, she doesn’t account for the additional heaviness added so there are a few blips as she goes through her choreo with her backup dancers.

As well as her trying to manoeuvre around the newly blown up colourful balloons the creative team decided to add last minute on stage which seems to either stick to her with static or fly too far across the stage to burst with the pyrotechnics.

Though she had been told about the planned confetti cannon, it’s the first time she actually sees it in action. And similar to the pyrotechnic devices, the abruptness of them makes her jump.

It also doesn’t help that she sputters uncontrollably during one of her lines when confetti pieces end up in her mouth.

By the end of her first dry run, Enid’s extremely stressed out.

But like always, she shakes out her nerves and she persists, getting into formation again for her next try.

Looking out from the stage, she can see other contestants, mostly other entries in the same semi-final group, scrutinise her performance and she’s slightly disappointed when she doesn’t see Wednesday there.

Which is silly, she thinks, because why should Wednesday be there?

The only time Wednesday had stayed past her commitments has been that single time when she watched Enid’s rehearsal.

And it’s probably best Wednesday’s not there to see Enid fumbling through clumsily.

Though the disappointment stays with Enid when she doesn’t see Wednesday for the rest of the day.

The semi-finals are finally here and Enid thinks she’s going to throw up.

She knows it’s ridiculous because it’s not like it’s something suddenly sprung upon her.

She knows she’s known about this for months and she knows her song and choreo like the back of her hand.

She knows the public likes her song.

And with the exception of the few expected haters online, she knows the public likes her.

But as she peeks out from backstage, she feels lightheaded at the sight of the audience.

Oh god, she thinks, there’s going to be over 10,000 people watching her.

The largest crowd she’s ever performed for live is when the local bar is full, reaching a total capacity of probably like 100 people.

And this is…100 times that.

And…that’s not even counting the millions at home comfortably watching the live broadcast.

Which is…100 times that.

She feels queasy.

What if she messes up? What if she trips over a balloon, chokes on confetti or her cape catches fire?

What if her voice cracks or falls flat? Just like she had noticed from some of the other performers from the first semi-final?

What if she becomes a meme and everyone makes fun of her?

Thornhill has a crazed look on her face as she’s directing the staff to prepare for the changing to Enid’s set, “Two minutes until France comes on, people!” 

Enid feels the world close in on her and when the assistant double checks her outfit to ask if everything’s fine with Enid, she can only whisper out, “No.”

And she runs.

She can feel everyone’s eyes on her as she moves further and further away from the waiting area of the stage and ignores Thornhill’s manic cry of, “France, get back here, you need to be on in one minute!”

It’s hard to breathe and she feels like she needs to be outside to get air, anything, that can help her–

She feels a warm hand clasp hers.

“Enid, breathe,” Wednesday says soothingly.

“Wednesday,” Enid cries.

Though it’s only been a day since she’s seen Wednesday, it seems much longer than that and her simple presence already makes Enid feel a bit better.

But she can’t stop the anxiety rushing through her body.

“I–I can’t do this. T–There’s too many people. I’m going to mess up. And they’re going to laugh at me. What was I thinking? I don’t deserve to represent France. I’m a failure–”

“Enid,” Wednesday interrupts, her hand gripping onto Enid’s tighter with such reassurance that Enid feels lightheaded for other reasons. “You can do this. I know you can.”

Enid looks down at the ground, shaking her head.

And her breath hitches when she feels the coolness of Wednesday’s fingertips on her chin, gently tilting her head up.

Enid feels dizzy at the intensity of Wednesday’s gaze on her.

“You’re incredibly stubborn and unyielding. You’ve worked tirelessly for this. You could never be a failure,” Wednesday says in a tone laced with such affection it makes Enid’s chest constrict.

And then Enid stops breathing, just for a little bit, when she hears her own words thrown back at her as Wednesday says, “At least to me, you’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

Swallowing hard, when she recovers from the effect Wednesday has on her, Enid shakily says, “I’m still so nervous.”

Wednesday nods in understanding. “Think about what your song means to you, and who you want to sing to. There is no need to think of anything else.”

Then, Wednesday’s warm hand is ripped from Enid’s as Thornhill marches to them, dragging Enid back to stage. “France! You should have been on stage at least five seconds ago.”

Enid looks back at Wednesday as Wednesday gives her a small encouraging smile. “I believe your performance is required if you want to achieve the highest score tonight for your reward.” 

There’s no time for Enid to wonder what Wednesday was talking about when she mentioned her reward and her heart is still pounding when the intro comes on, the lights on her still dimmed.

She takes a deep breath in and out.

She can do this.

Then, when the spotlight lands on her and the pyrotechnics come on, she puts on her best smile.

And Enid tries to put on the best performance of her life.

She’s still racked with nerves but the further she goes into her song, the more they dissipate.

Her body moves on its own accord, accustomed to the choreo and her mouth is singing the words effortlessly.

She nearly fumbles when she catches clusters of pride flags wildly being waved at her as the audience cheers loudly but recovers quickly as she feels a foreign sense of pride well up within her.

She thinks about Wednesday, suddenly transported back to that one day of rehearsals, the only time she had ever seen Wednesday stay to watch any performance. But she had stayed.

For Enid.

Remembering Wednesday’s lingering gaze on her form that day, Enid belts out, “parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne, même si ça ne devrait pas.”

Her whole body is tingling and her hands are shaking when she gets off the stage.

She had done it. She had performed for over 10,000 people in front of her and millions on live TV.

The feeling of being on stage, though sweating heavily under the stage lights, and seeing fans mouth her words and follow her dance moves had been…indescribable.

The rush of adrenaline catches up to her and she laughs hysterically to herself, other contestants giving her curious looks.

She knows she had done her best and can only wait for the results now.

And hope.

Besides the actual performance itself, the other part of the night she had been so worried about were the contestant interviews they hold as they wait for the votes to come in.

Coincidently, she ends up being grouped together with Ireland and Greece.

Well, she thinks it’s coincidental for Divina and Kent but definitely not for Ajax, judging by the subtle questions and comments around the two of them.

Ajax is definitely more comfortable answering them and Enid’s not sure if it’s because he’s oblivious or just more experienced with these probing questions but Enid does her best to redirect the questions back to Eurovision itself. 

“I have never been to Liverpool before but it’s been so fun. I’m super happy and grateful to be here.”

“We know you’ve been sightseeing,” the host says and Enid tries to keep a smile on her face though she sees the host glancing pointedly over to Ajax, “What would you say is your favourite part of Liverpool that you’ve been to?”

“Ooooh, that’s a really hard question,” Enid says and inwardly fumbles for an answer.

She doesn’t want to say something stupid like she doesn’t know what she’s talking about or offensive to the locals but also, genuinely, she doesn’t know.

She’s seen a lot of Liverpool by now and racks her brain, thinking back to all the places she’s been to.

And Enid doesn’t hesitate to say, “The Wheel of Liverpool. It holds many fond memories for me.”

[alt video: Divina, Kent, Enid Sinclair and Ajax Petropolus sit side by side together while being interviewed by the Eurovision host.]

Eurovision Watch the latest interview with Ireland, France and Greece as they eagerly wait for the Semi-Final 2 results!

—

greek_goddess  calling it now, she definitely went on the wheel with ajax!

      | xgeekygreekyx  totes

      | enid_stan_fan  if nt ajax, she ws deffo ther w sum1 else

ajaxnumberonefan  nooooo, ajax is too good for her! 🤢

tootiredtocry  Did you see the smile Ajax gave Enid when she said that? It’s sooo about them 😊

      | greek_goddess  right???

GuinessLife   🇮🇪 IRELAND WOOOO 🇮🇪

PROTECT-ENID-SINCLAIR  We need to protect Enid from Ajax!!

kiss-my-axe  Am I the only one who ships Enid with Kent? They had a few cute selfies together

      | euro-fanatic  lol yes u r

             | kiss-my-axe  🥹🥹🥹

HellaFella  are you all blind? enid was clearly uncomfortable with the questions about her and ajax. what was the host thinking?

       | tootiredtocry Maybe she was uncomfortable because they don’t want to reveal their relationship yet 🤔

             | bi-bi-miss-american-bi  or maybe because shes obviously gay 💅

Enid hopes she didn’t end up saying something dumb live on TV, but she’s glad at least that part’s over now. 

She looks over to Divina, Kent and Ajax, feeling envious at their rowdy booths. They are overfilled with their creative teams, country committee members, she assumes, and a few family members, all proudly waving their respective country flags.

Which maybe wouldn't have made Enid feel so bad if not for the constant panning of the camera to each contestant sitting in their own booth.

Where other tables are full, Enid’s…is just her and her two backing dancers. It’s awkward and she’s sure they feel awkward too, probably wondering how they drew the short straw being matched with Enid.

Even Weems hadn’t bothered to show up, saying the committee will be cheering for her in spirit from their office in a separate building somewhere nearby and of course, it’s not like Enid’s family are there.

It’s embarrassing. The lack of people on her table cheering for France. For Enid.

Trying to push through the embarrassment because there’s nothing she can really do about it, Enid practises her excited face for when the camera eventually lands on her, encouraging people to vote for France and jumps when she hears Wednesday’s voice behind her.

“What are you doing with your face?”

“Wednesday?” Enid asks, surprised to see her there and is even more surprised when she takes a seat next to Enid. “What are you doing here?”

“Support,” Wednesday says plainly and Enid’s heart skips a beat when Wednesday picks up one of the France flags on her table.

“Are,” Enid starts, looking around them, “...are you even allowed to be here with me?”

“I don’t believe there is a rule stating against fraternising amongst different countries,” Wednesday says and then looks over Enid’s shoulder. “And if they decide we are breaking any rules, it will be more difficult removing the three of us.”

“Three?”

“I may have requested additional reinforcements.”

Before Enid can ask what she means, her unasked question is quickly answered when Yoko and Bianca emerge, cheering loudly for Enid.

They all wave the France flag wildly when the camera eventually comes to France’s booth with Yoko obnoxiously yelling, “FRANCE! FRANCE! FRANCE!” and Bianca blowing a kiss to the camera.

And Enid laughs loudly at the sight of Wednesday looking deadpan to the camera, unenthusiastically waving the France flag in front of her.

[alt image: Bianca Barclay, Yoko Tanaka, Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams sit together at the France table for Eurovision Semi-Finals 2. They all hold mini France flags. Yoko cheers towards the distance with her hands in the air. Bianca winks at the camera. Enid looks at Wednesday mid-laughter. Wednesday stares at the camera with an unimpressed look on her face.]

Enid Sinclair Unofficial Fan Account  Reminder to go vote for Enid and France!! 🇫🇷🗳️🏃

—

fruitymctooty  gayest table ever amirite or amirite 👀

eu_genie  Enid’s my neighbour, I will definitely vote for her!

      | eu_genie  Oh wait, I can’t vote for my own country.

      | hot_gyal  Lol sure she is 🙄  

TheHydesBride  no its her fault tyler and xavier are out

      | enid_stan_fan  r u lost? this is an enid fan acc, y r u even here LOL

bianca-b-fancam  BIANCAAAAAAAA 🇧🇪 

PROTECT-ENID-SINCLAIR  OMG is that the girl from the spain entry?? Stay away from Enid 😡

      | bi-bi-miss-american-bi  doesn’t look like enid wants to stay away from her iykwim lmao

gay4yoko  damnnnn i ship the 4 of them 👯♀️👯♀️ poly 4 the win

      | tanakayoko ✅  sorry, there is only one for me 🇮🇪😘

             | gay4yoko  HOLY CRAP SENPAI NOTICED ME 😭😭😭

Fleur-escence  🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷

aussie_botch  shes got my vote for now cos shes mates w/ yoko but in the finals mine is going to aus

bi-bi-miss-american-bi  get you a girl who looks at wednesday addams like @enidsinclair does

Wednesday, Yoko and Bianca stay with Enid the entire time, even when they start announcing the countries that have qualified to go through to the Grand Final.

Enid feels queasy as they announce country after country but have yet still to call out France, which must obviously be shown on her face because a few seconds later, she feels Wednesday’s hand on hers.

“Don’t worry. You will have made it through.”

The warmth of Wednesday’s hand calms Enid down about her result, though her heart starts beating faster with Wednesday’s touch.

And when the host finally announces France, Enid squeals in delight, the camera capturing the genuine smile on her face, tearing up as Yoko and Bianca hug her tightly to congratulate her.

Throughout it all, Wednesday never lets go of Enid’s hand, not even when Enid turns her hand around to interlace their fingers together.

After Enid’s own press conference, though she felt wide awake from the energy buzzing through her, she also felt way too exhausted to join the afterparty that Ajax, who also qualified, had invited her to.

Plus, she had made plans to meet with Wednesday after to celebrate, just like they had for Wednesday. And Enid couldn’t think of a better way to end her night.

Her phone blows up with congratulations and she rolls her eyes as the same people she hadn’t spoken to in a long time ask how she’s doing and how amazing her performance was.

She goes through and deletes the messages mumbling mockingly to herself, “You’ll never be able to make it, Enid. Just stick to singing covers at the bar, Enid. Why do you always have to seek so much attention, Enid. Pfft, fakes.”

Her father calls her with genuine pride in his voice which makes Enid tear up.

“I always knew you could do it.”

"Are you ready for your reward?" Wednesday asks when she arrives at Enid’s hotel room.

Enid gapes at Wednesday, trying to understand what she’s talking about.

Taking in her expression, Wednesday says, “Have you not seen the public scores for tonight?”

“Oh!”

In all the excitement, Enid completely forgot.

She quickly takes out her phone to check, and there it is.

Ordered from highest to lowest are the public scores.

With France right at the top.

France: 183

“Oh my god!” Enid yells with excitement.

She puts her hand to her chest and wonders if she can possibly take any more good things happening tonight. She’s not used to things actually working out for her. 

Then Enid freezes, remembering Wednesday’s question.

Did they actually agree on some reward if Enid scores the highest tonight?

“Right, my reward!” Enid says, laughing nervously when Wednesday only stares at her expectantly.

“Err…yup! Ready when you are,” she says with confidence, hoping Wednesday won’t see through her.

She should have known nothing would get past Wednesday because the previous gentle look on Wednesday’s face is suddenly replaced with a frown. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Grimacing, Enid apologises, “I’m sorry? I guess I drank too much.”

Wednesday’s face is blank, giving nothing away and she doesn’t give a response.

“What did I ask for?” Enid asks.

She hopes it wasn’t anything embarrassing.

Looking down at Wednesday, who now looks almost nervous and that in turn makes Enid nervous. Because what could Enid have asked for to generate such a response from Wednesday?

“If you don’t remember, then it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, OK.”

Wednesday turns to leave but after taking two steps, she halts and then turns back.

“No matter if you do not remember,” Wednesday stiffly says, eyes looking away from Enid, ”Just know that I never break my promises.”

The vulnerability shown in the action is so foreign on Wednesday that it makes Enid’s heart ache.

But before she can reassure Wednesday that they really can just forget about it all, Enid’s glad she kept her mouth shut because shortly after, Wednesday places her hands onto Enid’s shoulders and goes onto the tips of her toes to press her lips firmly against Enid’s.

An initial eep squeaks out of Enid before she instantly melts against Wednesday, wrapping her arms around Wednesday’s waist.

Thank you wine-drunk Enid Sinclair, you smooth mofo, she thinks to herself.

Wednesday’s lips are as soft as she had imagined and the hands resting on Enid’s shoulders are gentle but slightly shaky which warms Enid, making her lean in more and hold onto Wednesday tighter.

She wants to show Wednesday just how much she wants her.

How long she’s wanted her for.

She kisses Wednesday deeply, craning her neck down further, trying to get as close to Wednesday as possible and Enid can’t help but smile into the kiss when she feels Wednesday pushing herself closer, clutching onto the collar of Enid’s jumper tighter.

She’s not sure how long it is but when Enid eventually feels Wednesday pulling back, Enid still doesn’t feel ready to let go of her yet.

Their lips detach only long enough for Enid to mutter out and tease, “Hmm…not long enough, I did get a higher score than you.”

Wednesday only scoffs in response to Enid’s words but doesn’t protest when Enid presses her lips harder against Wednesday’s, never wanting to let her go. 

She doesn’t want to say goodbye to Wednesday.

Not before, and especially not now, now that she knows what Wednesday feels like in her arms.

“Stay with me,” Enid pleads, trailing kisses across Wednesday’s jaw, drawing sharp gasps from her.

“Enid…”

 “Please.”

And Enid feels like her chest is going to burst when she feels the firm nod from Wednesday and her breathy response of, “Yes.”

Wednesday ends up staying over and Enid wonders if it’s such a good idea to be having adult sleepovers so close to the Grand Final.

Surely they should both be reserving their energy for their performances but when the morning comes and Enid wakes up to the sunlight filtering through the thin curtains and the warmth of Wednesday in her bed, she feels the most energised and relaxed in a long time.

Their breakfast in Enid’s room is interrupted with knocks on Enid’s door. 

Grumbling against Wednesday’s lips, Enid protests when Wednesday pulls away for Enid to answer the door. “If we’re really quiet, I think they’ll go away.”

“It’s the final tomorrow,” Wednesday says, gently pushing against Enid’s chest, “I should probably be leaving now too.”

Huffing, Enid knows Wednesday’s right and shuffles to the door but not before sending a pout back to Wednesday who offers her an affectionate eye roll back.

Enid doesn’t even know who could be bothering her so early in the morning and when she opens the door, it’s the last people she would have expected to see.

“Maman! Papa! What are you doing here? ”

And behind her parents, even her idiotic brothers are also there.

Her father pulls Enid in for a comforting hug, saying how proud he is of her and how they should have been there sooner for her.

When he releases her, she sees him notice Wednesday there.

“This is Wednesday. She’s–”

“From the Spanish entry,” her father interrupts enthusiastically in English and turns to Wednesday, “You and your family are tremendous, I look forward to seeing you perform tomorrow!”

Looking slightly taken aback because Enid guesses it’s fairly overwhelming to suddenly meet the whole family the morning after, eventually Wednesday gives a small nod and quietly responds with, “Thank you.”

“I was on my way out,” Wednesday explains, making a move to leave.

Then there’s a bit of an awkward moment because clearly Wednesday doesn’t know how to say bye to Enid with her family around and Enid really wants to give Wednesday a kiss goodbye. But she obviously can’t.

Ultimately, the moment goes on for too long so Wednesday heads out without another word.

Disappointment fills Enid because this was not how she wanted this morning to go.

Not after the night she had shared with Wednesday.

“How nice for you to be so close with other contestants here,” her father happily says, gesturing at the now abandoned breakfast.

“Is she single?” one of her brothers asks which only gets him a punch from Enid.

Thankfully, no one raises any suspicions as to why Enid may be having breakfast with Wednesday so early in the morning.

Though her mother doesn’t say anything, Enid doesn’t miss the way her beady eyes linger over the breakfast for two and the unmade bed.

Though Enid had already had breakfast, their family hadn’t, so they all head down to the hotel restaurant for a bit more space.

While she’s glad her family made the effort to actually come and see her, a small part of Enid wishes they hadn’t.

Because while her mother didn’t even so much as greet Wednesday, in contrast, she seems to have so many words and questions for Ajax when he spots Enid on his way out and comes over to introduce himself to her family.

As well as the way she turns her nose up when Yoko and Divina walk past holding hands to say hi to Enid, whispering under her breath so only Enid can hear, “Do not befriend such bad influences.”

Enid hates it.

She hates how her mother makes her feel so ashamed of herself.

And with what she has with Wednesday.

Weems arrives shortly, saying she’ll look into getting an upgraded hotel suite to fit Enid and her family because clearly Enid’s single room isn’t enough to host all of them.

“Are you going to be OK here?” Enid asks warily, seeing her entire family so cramped in her hotel room.

She feels bad for having to leave them to themselves so soon after they came all the way to see her but her father reassures her saying they’ll be fine and for Enid to go do what needs to be done.

And then, Enid is more than happy to leave for her first dress rehearsal of the day when her mother fusses around her room, asking how Enid had managed to accumulate so much mess in such a short amount of time.

The energy seems to be buzzing in the arena this morning as every finalist rushes around the stage, trying to make sure everything is perfect for tonight.

It doesn’t take long for Enid to spot the Addams as Gomez and Uncle Fester loudly sing in Spanish, clanging swords together.

“Spain! What have I told you about using your props when not on stage?!” Thornhill cries in frustration, rushing over.

Though there’s the commotion, it doesn’t seem to faze the others.

Lurch seems to be sewing another pair of ripped trousers while listening to Pugsley talk about something excitedly in quick Spanish.

Morticia and Wednesday seem to be having a serious conversation, their voices too quiet for Enid to hear, not that it would make a difference because it’s not like Enid knows Spanish anyway.

As Enid approaches them, Enid’s curiosity is piqued when Morticia says in English, “Speak of the devil and she doth appear.”

Wednesday’s eyes snap to Morticia to glare at her but Morticia only responds by greeting Enid before leaving the two of them alone.

“Talking about me?” Enid teases in a tone way too confident for how she’s actually feeling because the thought of Wednesday talking to her mother about Enid terrifies her.

Especially after Morticia's comment last time about Wednesday's curfew, or lack of, and then...Enid actually utilising it?

And her anxiety rises when the serious look on Wednesday's face remains unchanged and she doesn't return Enid’s banter.

Wednesday says, “Enid, I–”

Thornhill’s voice interrupts. “Spain! You’re on!”

Wednesday lets out a deep sigh. “Would you be free for lunch later?”

“Definitely,” Enid says, wanting to spend as much time as she can with Wednesday.

Enid’s rehearsal goes smoothly. There’s nothing that needs to be changed and she’s still feeling good from her semi-final performance.

Afterwards, when she heads back to the hotel, she discovers her family has already settled into the upgraded hotel suite but she still needs to move her things over from her old room.

Enid manages to pack all of her things, with the help of her mother apparently having tidied up for her a bit, before heading out to meet Wednesday for lunch.

The hotel staff start to take her things over to the suite but Enid quickly stops them, remembering to take her notebook out to shove into her bag.

She doesn’t want to leave her notebook in the hands of others, the words held inside too personal and not ready to be seen by anyone but herself.

Lunch with Wednesday is a bit awkward with conversation being stilted, as if they both aren’t quite sure what to say.

Which Enid thinks is silly after the night they spent together last night.

But then Enid’s family had suddenly turned up. And there wasn’t really any as much talking required for last night–

Enid wonders if Wednesday is also feeling blue like she is, knowing they don’t have long together but not knowing how to bring up the topic of them and what happens after the contest is over.

When Enid comes back from the bathroom, she raises a brow at Wednesday, leaning over the table towards Enid’s seat.

“What nefarious things are you up to?”

“Nothing,” Wednesday says, just a bit too quickly, hands retracting from Enid’s bag.

“Stealing my trade secrets?” Enid teases, not used to Wednesday acting jittery.

“That implies they hold any inherent economic value,” Wednesday says flatly.

Enid pouts. “Meanie.”

This seems to break the awkward tension and Enid relaxes as they settle back into their usual, easygoing conversations. 

When they part later at the hotel, Wednesday calls out, “Enid.”

Turning back, Enid waits patiently, though her heart races in anticipation when she sees Wednesday deep in thought.

“Nothing,” Wednesday eventually says, “It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow. Before our performances?”

They’re both scheduled to perform towards the tail end of the night tomorrow, with France before Spain, so they should have plenty of time before then.

Maybe they could even approach the topic of what’s going to happen to them after the contest finishes.

She doesn’t have any space left in her notebook but the hotel suite has a notepad and she quickly scribbles down the words she wants to tell Wednesday.

She doesn’t even notice her family coming back until one of her brothers tosses a sock at her to get her attention and she has to quickly flip the notepad over to hide the title of her new song.

je veux être avec toi / I want to be with you.

Though her impromptu songwriting takes longer than expected (they always do), she still has time before her second dress rehearsal later, though her father doesn’t believe it really starts so late.

“How can they expect you to rehearse from 9pm to 1am tonight?”

“I mean, it’s not just me practising the whole time, I have a slot. And the actual final tomorrow is going to be at the same time, so that kind of makes sense?”

Either way, her father suggests they go out for dinner to make sure Enid has enough energy for later.

And it’s nice.

It’s been such a long time since they’ve gone out together as a family, not even to the local bistro in their hometown.

They go to a French restaurant nearby, her brothers protesting the entire walk, claiming they want to try out food they can’t get back home. But their mother shuts them down quickly, saying, “If we must pay to eat out, it should be contributing back to our people.”

Enid’s disguise seems to work when no one in the public recognises her besides the owner of the restaurant who, after a brief look of surprise, makes sure to place her and her family in a quiet corner of the restaurant.

“Good luck to us tomorrow. We’re all looking forward to your performance,” the owner says as they point to the vast decor of French Bunting around the place as well as the servers who all wave eagerly at her.

Even the head chef pops out of the kitchen to press kisses against Enid’s cheeks, offering a few dishes on the house.

Her father proudly places his hand on her shoulder and her brothers send her teasing comments about what other things her clout can get them.

And Enid thinks it’s the closest she’s ever seen her mother looking proud of her.

Though the moment is ruined when her mother has scathing remarks when Enid talks (omitting many things) about what she’s been up to over the past two weeks in Liverpool.

But overall, despite that, dinner goes well.

It’s the happiest she’s felt in a long, long time.

However, her feeling of contentment doesn’t last long because just shortly after she wraps up her second dress rehearsal performance, Yoko comes running up to her to ask if she’s OK.

Confused with why Yoko would be asking her that, Enid only says, “Yeah…why wouldn’t I be?”

Yoko’s face blanches. “You haven’t seen it?”

“Seen what?”

Hesitantly, Yoko hands Enid her phone, an article pulled up on the screen.

Eurovision French star, Enid Sinclair outed? Catalogue of sapphic songs leaked

And Enid’s blood runs cold, seeing photos of pages and pages of her notebook staring back at her.

Her raw and personal lyrics, all exposed to the world.

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand how this could have happened,” Enid repeats to herself.

By now, news had spread and the other contestants give Enid a wide berth, not wanting to get involved in her drama but still curiously watching her and Yoko from afar.

Not being able to focus on what Yoko is saying next to her, Enid furiously racks her brain trying to think of who could have gotten their hands on her notebook.

It’s only ever been in her hotel room, nowhere else, so who could have possibly–

And chills run down Enid’s spine because there could only be one person.

When Enid finds her, Wednesday’s face is stricken with worry.

Wednesday extends her hand out to Enid. “Enid, are you–”

“Why did you do it?”

Wednesday takes her hand back. “What?”

Enid can feel herself spiralling but she feels like she’s drowning and she can’t make sense of why this was happening to her.

How this happened to her.

Her thoughts are all jumbled and the feelings of anger and betrayal have simmered so violently during her walk over that it’s all ready to spill over.

“No one else had access to my notebook,” Enid says furiously, eyes angrily locking onto Wednesday’s. “Except for you.”

Enid had always been extremely careful with her notes. She locks them in her suitcase when there’s housekeeping and she’s never taken it out of her room.

She had thought about it and no one’s been in her room besides Wednesday.

Wednesday would have had so many opportunities.

Was it from the night when they were celebrating Spain’s qualification, when Enid didn’t remember a thing after?  

Was it from the night when Wednesday had stayed over, when Enid was sleeping?

And the one time she took it out was when they had lunch and Wednesday…

Wednesday even had her hands in her bag. Enid was sure of it.

Enid hadn’t thought anything of it at the time but now it makes sense to her.

“I thought I knew you,” Enid continues, her voice filled with betrayal.

There’s a brief pause as Wednesday maintains Enid’s eye contact and when Wednesday finally speaks, her tone is icy. “Correct. You don’t know me.”

And fresh tears fall from Enid’s eyes when Wednesday breathes out quietly, “Evidently.”

“Why did you do it?”

Wednesday exhales in frustration. “This is asinine.”

“Stop using your big words and just admit it!”

Wednesday’s eyes turn dangerously dark. “I cannot admit to something I did not do.”

Wednesday’s jaw is clenched tightly, looking at Enid in disbelief. “Had you even thought of a motive before you came rushing over to pin this heinous crime on me? Why would I even do something like this?”

The deep look of disappointment on Wednesday’s face stuns Enid as she fumbles for an answer.

“Isn’t it obvious? Because…both of us are the biggest favourites to win! Because my entry scored higher than yours in the semi-finals and you don’t want me to win.”

There’s a long silence then besides Enid’s heavy breathing and her quiet sobs.

Though Wednesday looks directly at Enid, her eyes look glazed over as if she doesn’t want to look at Enid. Wednesday’s tone remains cold and her face stony as she says her next words.

“I had no need to jeopardise you because it has already been decided. Has been decided for quite some time,” Wednesday says with a pause. “That Spain will be the victor this year.”

Enid freezes, taking in the serious expression on Wednesday’s face. “What? The final is tomorrow–”

“Enid, you are naive. Do you truly believe the winner of the contest is to be determined tomorrow night?”

Her words finally sink in and Enid understands what Wednesday is alluding to. But Enid shakes her head. “That’s impossible.”

“Ask your broadcaster committee head if you do not believe me.”

Enid stares at Wednesday, looking for any signs that she may not be telling the truth. But her face is as impassive as ever.

“From the initial reception, they had previously already determined either France or Spain would be victorious. And from the two, they eventually decided Spain will take the title this year.”

A lump forms in Enid’s throat. “Why?”

“I do not know the reasoning behind the decision.”

Enid takes a breath in shakily. “How long have you known for?”

There’s a long hesitation from Wednesday and Enid knows she won’t like the answer.

“Ever since we arrived in Liverpool.” 

Enid feels the ground fall from beneath her at Wednesday’s words.

Tears run down her face as Enid whispers out, “So, all this time you knew I didn’t have a chance? From the very beginning?”

Wednesday presses her lips together.

“Yes.”

And Enid can’t help her mocking laughter from coming out, laughing through her tears.

“You knew how important this was to me. Was it fun? Did you laugh at me while I was doing my goddamn best? Did you think it was so fucking funny seeing the carrot dangled in front of me, watching me chase after nothing?”

“I had no intention of deceiving you. About the contest results. And when I discovered how important this was to you, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. Of what I know. And for that deception by omission, I can only apologise.”

“When you discovered? Wednesday, I entered the contest, we all did. Why wouldn’t we want to win?” Enid asks incredulously.

Looking directly at Enid with a stare so intense it sends shocks through Enid’s whole body, Wednesday’s voice is startlingly gentle. “For some of us, there are other things we hold dearer to our heart than winning this foolish contest.”

Enid blinks back her tears, her vision blurring more as she cries quietly, not sure what to make of Wednesday’s words.

“I admit to this deception but it was no subterfuge. Furthermore, I held no involvement with your exposé.”

“How can I believe you? You lied to me about the contest, how can I trust you’re not lying about this too?”

“I suppose you have no reason to. However…do you truly believe I would have done something like this?”

Enid lets out choked sobs, thinking about how Wednesday had been so supportive of her all this time.

Was it all fake? Had Wednesday been laughing at her behind her back all this time?

Wednesday had known.

When she reassured Enid with her tender words, encouraging her to perform at the semi-final.

Wednesday had known.

When she held onto Enid’s hand as they listened to her semi-final results.

Wednesday had known.

When she was in Enid’s bed.

Enid’s stomach twists and churns as she sobs out, “Yes.”

The silence is deafening and Enid can feel Wednesday’s eyes on her but she refuses to look back at her.

“I see,” Wednesday says quietly. “Then there is nothing else more for me to say.”

Then, Wednesday’s voice is tender, tone laced with sadness when she says, “Whether you believe me or not, my feelings for you were never disingenuous.”

Taking a deep breath as Wednesday’s words sink in, Enid spins around.

But Wednesday is no longer there.

Her tears are not even dry or even close to ending when Enid bursts into Weems’ office.

“Is it true?”

Weems looks up from her desk, probably about to admonish Enid for her entrance but stops when she sees the red of her eyes and the tears running down her cheeks.

“Enid. I heard about the news. I’m terribly sorry it had–”

“Is it true?” Enid repeats. “That we never had a chance. That I–I was never going to win Eurovision.”

Weems keeps quiet, maintaining eye contact with Enid. After a few seconds, she sighs. “How did you find out?”

The knot in Enid’s stomach tightens with the admission but she manages to say, “It doesn’t matter.”

Enid laughs sadly, thinking back to her interactions with the woman in front of her.

“I thought it was weird how absent you’ve been. You didn’t even come for the semi-final.”

The memory of Wednesday filling in for Weems’ absence sends another wave of sadness through Enid but she pushes through.

Going through the past months in her mind, Enid thinks out loud.

“I didn’t meet you until we were here, though you were supposed to be in charge of my song selection. When I shot my music video, it was so close to the deadline that no suggested changes could be made and I was so happy at the time.

“But…that was planned, wasn’t it? For an entry for Eurovision, I thought it was strange how much control I had over the creative decisions.

“You…France never cared at all, did they? Was I even the best one from the audition or did you decide that some mediocre girl from a small town was enough to be a dummy entry?” 

The response from Weems is immediate.

“Of course you were the best entry. We didn’t want to win this year, but that hadn’t meant we wanted to look like fools by sending someone completely inadequate.”

“Didn’t want to?” Enid repeats. “Why wouldn’t we want to win? It doesn’t make any sense. France has not won for 46 years, why wouldn’t we want to reclaim the title again?”

“Enid,” Weems sighs, “You have no idea how much it takes for a country to host something so big like Eurovision. How much it costs. We’re already hosting the Olympic Summer Games next year. And to try to hold Eurovision just two months before that? That’s madness.”

“But…but…” Enid starts to say, the feeling of defeat setting in.

Because what else is there to say here? It’s nothing within her control.

“But I wanted to win,” Enid whispers, “I wanted to win for France.”

Weems offers her a genuine, sad smile. “I know you did.”

There’s nothing but silence in the office, Enid looking wildly at the ground as Weems looks at her with sympathy.

“So, is everything fake? The public votes for tomorrow? Did I even get the highest score in the semi-final?”

“The public votes are never rigged. You really did perform exceptionally. The jury votes for tomorrow, however…”

“Right,” Enid says blankly.

Politics, just like her mother says every year.

“We made a mistake sending you this year,” Weems says quietly. “I truly believe if it had been any other year, you would have had a chance. And we should have been able to give that chance to you.”

Weems’ words only make Enid feel worse.

So she lost out because she had shitty luck? Like always?

“Enid. You should be proud of how far you have come. You have certainly impressed me. As well as the public.”

Weems’ tone is warm and comforting but it does nothing to dull the pain in Enid’s heart.

Variations of her name and if she’s OK and what happened are called out by her family when she returns to her suite in tears but she doesn’t give them any response as she rushes to lock herself in the bathroom to cry.

She doesn’t know how to face them.

She’s not ready to face them.

She hadn’t been ready to face the world.

Yet, here she was.

Her brothers seemingly take turns to check on her through the door but Enid only tells them to leave her alone, though she knows they are well meaning.

It’s not until her father knocks and tearfully asks what he can do for her, does she get up to open the door.

“I fucked up,” Enid says as she cries in her father’s arms.

She can see her brothers and her mother watching them from behind and it makes her pull away from him.

Sensing her discomfort with everyone, he gently leads Enid back into the bathroom and locks the door behind him.

“Is this better?” he asks.

The consideration and understanding displayed makes Enid nod, throwing herself back onto him.

And when she finally regains some semblance of control of her breathing back, she tells him everything.

She doesn’t know where to start so she just lets the words come out in a jumble.

She tells him about how she likes girls, how she always has. How beautiful and soft they can be and how they act as her muse for her songwriting.

She tells him about Wednesday, the girl who is so complex, like a puzzle waiting to be solved, which Enid believes she finally had, but now, she’s not so sure. How Enid’s never been so infatuated with anyone else like her before and how short-lived their love affair was.

But then, there’s also the lies and deceit from her. Wednesday was right in saying it was by omission but still, deceit is deceit.

She tells him about Weems, how she had confirmed what Wednesday had said. How Enid had been following this fruitless effort.

She tells him about how she feels about her personal writing being shared with everyone. How invasive it feels.

She feels wretched, angry, and injustice.

But most of all she’s heart-broken because…not only has she lost her privacy, of her innermost, raw thoughts, but she may have also lost Wednesday because of this.

Now that she was no longer seeing red, she’s not so sure if Wednesday was the culprit.

Deep down, she knew Wednesday didn’t have anything to do with the revealing of her notes because Wednesday was right, she had no reason to.

And the look on Wednesday’s face…

The hurt on it when Enid accused her so surely…

Enid had felt so hurt with processing Wednesday’s betrayal that she ended up lashing back out at her.

She doesn’t know what to do.

Before, she had only ever wanted one thing for as long as she can remember. But now, there’s two.

And she can’t have both, it seems.

“I–I blamed her,” Enid sobs out.

“You were angry. And scared,” her father says soothingly.

She doesn’t know if Wednesday can forgive her. And she doesn’t know if she can forgive Wednesday.

“I wanted to win Eurovision so bad.”

Her father lovingly strokes Enid’s hair.

“You are still young. Eurovision may seem like your whole world right now. But I’m certain one day you’ll look back and realise just how negligible not winning Eurovision is. You are going to go places, Enid. I just know it.”

Enid wishes she believed her father.

“Everything will work out,” her father consoles her. “Things will get better.”

It doesn’t get better.

Because when Enid wakes up the next day, that very first article turns out to just be the beginning as countless news websites pick up on the hot trend and Enid’s lyrics and photos are shared mercilessly.

Translations of her words spread online, amassing theories on who she may be writing about.

Her lyrics are deeply scrutinised, mocked and made fun of. They’re described as poor, silly, and senseless.

Videos are created and shared. Dramatic readings of her words, other musicians putting their own melodies and spin on them.

People chime in their thoughts and opinions, which don’t matter and mean nothing at the end of the day, but the comments don’t stop coming in.

As well as the hate and death threats. 

She switches her phone off and tries to keep her breathing under control, staring blankly at the wall.

No one in her family brings it up.

Her brothers are deafeningly silent, not even asking if they can have her leftover food over breakfast, like they usually would.

Surprisingly, even her mother stays silent and Enid wonders if it’s because she has finally reached the point of no return with her. It’s disappointing and she would rather her mother yell and scream at her because then it would mean she actually still cares about her.

“What do you want to do?” her father asks Enid.

She knows what he’s asking.

The Grand Final is tonight but…what’s the point if France has no chance of winning?

What’s the point in Enid trying so goddamn hard when it doesn’t matter?

Her mother was right. Her dream had been childish and frivolous.

“I want to go home,” Enid whispers with hesitation, “Would that be OK?”

Her father’s familiar warmth is comforting as he pulls her in for a hug.

“Of course it is, mon trésor.”

It doesn’t take long for Enid to pack everything, with her not having unpacked much anyway since the move with her family to the upgraded suite.

But her hands still when she finds Wednesday’s £20 banknote, safely pressed between pages of the hotel suite notepad, covered with her handwriting.

She traces over the words, remembering the rush of emotions that went through her that night as she hit Record time and time again, trying to perfect the song she had written for Wednesday.

Against her own will, her mind races and persistent words and notes run through her mind, her fingers itching to jot them down.

tu me manques / I miss you.

But she doesn’t.

She ignores the instinct and keeps these words deeply hidden in her mind, where the world won’t be able to reach them.

Her family finds them flight tickets to leave later in the evening and Enid doesn’t bother to show up to the morning dress rehearsal, only sending Weems a single message of, “I’m done. I’m going home.”

The response she receives is a simple, “OK.”

She spends the time before they need to leave for their flight in bed, adamantly not looking at her phone.

She doesn’t need to read any more comments about how disappointed others are of her. 

She carries enough disappointment around for herself.

It’s silent in the taxi as they make their way to the airport and Enid’s grateful for her father suggesting only he and Enid share a taxi together while her mother and brothers share another, because Enid doesn’t think she can stand her mother’s constant, suffocating glances at her.

She’s still yet to say a single word to Enid.

The traffic is crawling, the streets jam packed full of people.

Enid stares blankly out of the window, looking at the crowds outside, a lot of people in fancy dress, all celebrating Eurovision, watching through big screens in the pubs and bars.

With the window rolled slightly down, she can just about make out groups discussing speculations on who’s going to win tonight.

Enid wishes she had her ignorance back and wonders if she would have been the same, buzzing with excitement backstage right now if she hadn’t found out the truth.

She rests her sunglasses higher on her face, not wanting to be recognised, especially as small groups surround the taxi, weaving through the traffic to get to wherever they are meant to be tonight. 

The driver seems content with the snail-paced movement, probably happy to keep the fare meter running, and hums along to the radio.

It’s a running commentary of Eurovision. Enid guesses they’re probably around halfway through the performances by now.

As they wait at the traffic lights, Enid hears the familiar tune from a bar across the street and she sits up instantly, face pressed against the window to watch a mob sway and chant.

The lyrics are heavily butchered, the voices are slurred with alcohol and out of sync with each other but it’s unmistakable.

They’re singing her song. 

“Parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne! Même si ça ne devrait pas!”

“Can’t seem to get away from that song nowadays,” the driver says, glancing outside.

“Oh, really?” her father asks, cautiously glancing between the driver and Enid.

“Yeah. My daughter plays it at home all the time. Won’t stop going on about it.”

The driver turns around to look at them. “Are you both from France?”

Her father responds with, “That’s right.”

“Is it big in France? Do French people like it too?”

Her father doesn’t hesitate and squeezes Enid’s hand when he says, “The biggest. We love it.”

Tears sting Enid’s eyes and she presses her face further into her jacket.

“That’s unbelievably great to hear. You should be proud of having a song like that representing your country,” the driver says and turns back to focus on the road.

And Enid whips her head around when he adds, “It helped my daughter come out.”

“It did?”

The driver meets Enid’s eyes in his rearview mirror.

“Yeah. She follows the singer online religiously. Been following her since the music video for it came out. She said it gave her confidence to see idols just like her. And how normal it is. How happy she can be.”

The driver pats the centre of his steering wheel gently where a small rainbow sticker has been stuck over the car’s manufacturer logo. “We could do with more singers like her.”

Finding it hard to breathe, Enid looks out of the window again, trying to calm herself down.

It’s true that she may not be able to win Eurovision but…could there be something else she could do?

Something that’s within her control?

Maybe…

She’s terrified.

The influx of hate comments and the death threats that she was unable to avoid before forcing herself to look away.

But… 

She thinks back to the restaurant they went to last night, the proud look on the owner’s face as they said they were looking forward to seeing her tonight.

Would they be disappointed by her?

What would all those people sitting at home in France, waving their flag proudly, say when they see France’s absence this year?

If it were her at home watching Eurovision, she knows how she would have felt.

Disappointed.

Crushed.

Devastated.

Because, though Enid’s never seen France win Eurovision her entire life…there’s still the excitement and pride, the cheering of everyone in her home as her parents host their watch parties year and year again.

Despite the air of disappointment when France is near the bottom, the camaraderie is real and they all have fun.

She thinks back to Wednesday’s words, her shockingly gentle voice ringing through Enid’s head.

“For some of us, there are other things we hold dearer to our heart than winning this foolish contest.”

A queasy sensation rises within Enid when she realises the mistake she had made.

“I need to go back,” Enid says to herself, her voice gathering the attention of her father.

She leans forward towards the driver’s seat.

“Is it possible to be at the Liverpool Arena by,” Enid checks her watch and grimaces, “30 minutes?”

The driver glances back awkwardly, “Um…maybe if there wasn’t so much traffic and so many people here?”

He gestures at the throng of people walking against the car, behind them, in front of them.

“What should I do?” Enid asks her father in a panic.

He only gives her a stupefied look and a shrug.

Bouncing her leg fiercely against the floor of the taxi, she looks out of the window at the crowds.

And she thinks, fuck it.

Ignoring her father calling her name, she opens the door to take a step out and sticks two fingers in her mouth, trying to make the loudest whistle she can.

A few people look her way, looking at her curiously.

Taking a deep breath, she waves her arms around as wide as she can. “HEY! HI!”

This gathers more attention and when she takes her sunglasses off, there’s a clamber as everyone takes their phones out.

“Holy shit, is that–”

“I think that’s–”

“What the fuck–”

“Hi everyone! Um…for anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Enid Sinclair, repping France for Eurovision this year,” she says, projecting her voice across the street.

There’s cheering and a few screams from the crowd.

“ENID!”

“We love you, Enid!”

“Parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne, même si ça ne devrait pas!”

Smiling genuinely around her and trying to push down her nerves, seeing the number of phones out recording her, Enid continues.

“Erm…I have a favour to ask. I need to get to the arena to, you know, perform tonight. But…it’s super busy here. So, is there any chance you could help me just like…clear the road so we can get there?”

They do one better and rather than just moving away to allow traffic to flow again, individuals actually start running up to vehicles ahead of their taxi, asking them to pull over to the side to let them through first.

“Thank you all, so much!” Enid gratefully yells out of the window as they start to drive off.

And her heart feels like it’s going to burst when they all wish her luck, telling her how they can’t wait to see her performance.

“Here, take this for good luck,” a girl says, shoving a large sequin lesbian flag through the open window. “From and for the lesbians around the world.”

Enid tearfully thanks her and laughs when the girl adds, “Also, my social handle is written on the back if you um…wanted to get a drink sometime,” before she turns to her friend and whispers, “What? I’m just shooting my shot.”

After that, they start to head steadily to the arena and Enid checks her pockets. 

“Have you seen my phone?” Enid frantically asks her father, not remembering where it had been placed after she turned it off since her news broke.

“I put it in your bag. Here.” He passes her bag over to her.

She quickly thanks him and groans in frustration when there’s too much stuff in her bag and she can’t seem to be able to dig out her phone.

She needs to call Weems and tell her she’s changed her mind and that she’s coming back.

She hopes it’s not too late.

Finally, her phone drops out when she turns it upside down but before she makes a move to turn it on, an envelope falls onto her lap.

Her gut wrenches as she recognises the neat handwriting she’s become familiar with by now.

She opens it to find a small note inside: 

Dear Enid,

I’m usually good with words but I find myself unable to say these particular ones out loud in your presence.

There is something I have been keeping from you. May we find some time before the Grand Final tomorrow to talk through it?

I know how much Eurovision means to you and how this will hurt you.

I don’t know how to rectify this. However, if this means I am forever in your debt, then I wish to never pay it.

If it means I get to be with you forever.

- W.A.

Chapter Text

Before the taxi even stops, Enid opens the door to rush into the arena.

Checking her watch, Enid internally runs through how long it’ll take for her to get dressed and ready in her mind.

Her mother grabs her wrist. “Enid! What do you think you’re doing?”

She didn’t even realise her mother’s taxi had also followed them all the way back.

“Maman, I don’t have time to explain right now. But I need to go and get ready!”

Her mother sighs deeply. “Why must you insist on following this naive dream of yours? 

Her mother’s harsh words hurt Enid but she doesn’t have time to deal with it now and her voice echoes loudly through the thankfully empty employee car park.

“It’s not naive!”

Enid’s father and brothers awkwardly loiter in the back, not knowing how involved to get between the two of them.

While her and her mother have had many disagreements before, it’s never gotten this heated before. Nor has Enid ever raised her voice like this. Not when Enid always relents to her mother, not wanting to get herself in this exact kind of situation.

But Enid refuses to give in to her mother tonight. Not this time. 

“I may not be able to win the contest, but…I can make a difference,” Enid says with a steady voice, looking down to the gifted flag clutched in her hand, “I can still help others.”

Letting out a loud incredulous laugh, her mother sneers, “Help others? Everyone is mocking you, and yet, you wish to help them?”

A lump forms in Enid’s throat, heat creeping up her neck.

“Enid Sinclair, are you not embarrassed?”

It’s unexpected and the words shock Enid to the core, her body automatically shrinking and curling up before her mother.

Yes, others may be mocking her lyrics online. Calling them dumb, bland and absurd.

But they were borne from her true feelings.

She thinks about the countless nights she had stayed up, laying out her thoughts and feelings excitedly, in anticipation for a time when she’s ready to share them with the world.

And yes, others may be making fun of her. How it’s such a waste that she likes women, how she’s just young and confused and how her small hometown must not have many men for her to have not met the right one yet.

But at the same time, with every bigoted comment against her, there’s also many in support of her.

She thinks about Wednesday.

Her smile, the real one that’s only for Enid. Her cold exterior but surprising warmth when she lets you in.

The way she had felt in Enid’s arms and the way Enid had felt waking up to her.

The letter Wednesday had written to her, her usual neat handwriting slightly shaky. How anxious and nervous Wednesday must have been.

How can any of this possibly be embarrassing?

Or wrong?

How can any part of Enid be shameful?

Not when it was all so…beautiful.

Enid snaps.

“Maman! I am not ashamed of who I am!”

Her mother looks at her in surprise.

“I–I am so proud to be French. I am so proud of our hometown, where I come from. But…”

Enid swallows, her lips trembling.

“I am also proud to be gay. I am proud of who I am. And not just parts of me, but all of me.”

She grips onto the flag tighter, looking sadly down at it.

“There may be people out there wanting to tear me down, wanting to hurt me. But…I don’t want to pretend who I am anymore. No one should ever live like that.

“And…even if everyone else is against me. Why, can’t you, my mother, stand by me?”

Enid looks up to her mother, voice resolute. “Maman…why can’t you be on my side?”

And she doesn’t know what to think when she sees tears in her mother’s eyes.

“Enid, I’m sorry,” her mother says, voice cracking. “I…I believe it was my fault your notes were leaked.”

Enid’s throat closes up. “What?”

“I had started to tidy your room for you, honestly, I have no idea how you managed to get your room in such a mess and…I had left your notebook out. When we returned later, I was told the hotel staff went to collect our things from your room while we were out. They must have taken photos of it then.”

Her mother’s eyes are watery as she continues. “Your notebook had been moved but I thought nothing of it at the time, thinking I misremembered where I had put it. But when the news came out, I realised then. But I was too afraid to admit the truth.”

“I am so sorry Enid,” her mother cries out softly.

Enid takes in a deep shaky breath, head spinning, trying to process everything.

How can so much happen in so little time?

It’s all so extremely jarring, especially when compared to her usual life back in their sleepy hometown where nothing exciting happened.

But these past few months, especially the last two weeks, almost seem like it’s straight out of the melodramatic TV shows she watches back home.

Her unbelievable rise to fame after the national selections.

Her will-they-won’t-they relationship with Wednesday, leading to their eventual brief, kind-of illicit liaison.

Her discovery of Wednesday’s hidden truth.

Her exposure and public outing to the world, ending up being through the fault of her own mother.

She lets out her breath and claps her hands together, as best she can with the flag still in her hold, causing her family to almost jump at the unexpected reaction and sound. 

“It’s fine,” Enid says honestly, looking at her mother.

What’s done is done.

She doesn’t blame her mother. Maybe she would have, just hours ago.

Though it had been unintentional, it doesn’t change what her mother had done.

And hours ago, Enid would have probably lashed out at her mother, just like she had done with Wednesday.

Hours ago, when she still carried all of that self-hatred, disappointment and shame with her. 

But now…she only feels an immense weight lifted off of her chest.

“I…” Enid hesitates, tears forming again and she whispers out, “I just want you to be proud of me.”

She’s stunned into silence when her mother pulls her in for a hug. She doesn’t remember the last time her mother had initiated any kind of contact with her. “Of course I’m proud of you, Enid. You are my daughter, if I’m not proud of you then what kind of mother would I be?”

Enid’s arms hang loose against her sides, afraid of her mother ripping herself out of Enid’s arms.

She sniffles against her mother’s shoulder. “Even though…I’m gay?”

“Of course, mon cœur,” her mother says, making Enid speechless, hearing the term of endearment from her mother, “That doesn’t change anything.”

Still reeling from her mother’s words, Enid blurts out, “But you hate gay people.”

Her mother immediately pulls back from Enid. “What? I don’t have a problem with gay people.”

“What?”

“What? ”

They stare at each other for a while, both not knowing what to say.

“But…but…you don’t like Eugène’s mothers.”

“Pfft, not because they are gay,” her mother says, aghast. “I dislike them because they insist on feeding the foxes at night and they keep coming back for more. Do you know how many crops and chickens we lose every season because of them?”

“What about Ajax? You were asking him so many questions when he came over but…you didn’t even say anything to Wednesday at all.”

“I thought you and the Greek boy were dating. I read about it online, you know. Don’t think just because I’m old I don’t know how to use the internet. I was merely curious about him.”

Then, her mother looks at her with deep confusion. “And why would I converse with the Spanish girl? She’s your rival, no? I was worried she would take advantage and sabotage you in the contest. You’ve always been too trusting of others.”

Enid’s mouth opens and closes a few times, furiously trying to make sense of things.

“B–but…you told me to not hang out with Yoko and Divina and that they are bad influences.”

“Of course they are! Did you not see one of them was wearing a marijuana shirt?”

Enid feels hysterical. She hadn’t noticed but she knows what her mother’s talking about. Yoko had been so pleased when she found the shirt in this market they happened upon.

“Oh,” she breathes out.

All these years of her feeling estranged from her mother…did Enid somehow project onto her her own insecurities and self-loathing?

After a few moments, her mother sighs deeply.

“Enid. Is this…this career truly what you want to pursue? You have always been such an ambitious girl. Taking on too much at once, yet fixating on one thing at a time.

“It can be a two-edged sword. Look how upset you got when you discovered the truth behind the Eurovision results.”

Enid twists her fingers together, the sequins of the flag digging into her skin. As said before, it’s not fun having your insecurities brought up.

“Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve wanted to hold onto everything. You never wanted to let anything go.

“Do you remember the time when you were so stubborn and demanded to get two ice creams because you wanted different flavours? But you were too small to hold both of them at once and you ended up dropping them both onto the floor before you even managed to take a bite from either?”

“You and Papa refused to get me another one after,” Enid quietly says. 

Her mother gives Enid a dejected look.

“There are going to be many more situations when you will inevitably lose out on things. Through no fault of your own. Opportunities, awards because the industry is cruel and unfair. It’s always going to hurt you. Are you prepared for that?”

She thinks about her mother’s words.

Yes, the world can be unjust but…she doesn’t want that to stop her from being herself.

She doesn’t want to hide anymore.

So she firmly says, “Yes.”

As long as Enid has people on and by her side, she can do it.

She’s ready to show the world just who Enid Sinclair is.

Or she would be if only she could just get the damn thread through the needle.

Her fingers are shaking with nerves, seeing how long, not a lot, she has until her performance.

When the thread stubbornly remains out of the eye of the needle, Enid yells in frustration. “Argh!”

She doesn’t have time for this, she needs to–

“Enid, it looks like you are having some trouble.”

Enid whips her head around to find Morticia standing here.

“What is it you are attempting? Perhaps I can be of assistance,” Morticia says.

“Um…I’m trying to sew these together.”

Morticia slowly looks at the mess in front of Enid, the lesbian flag she had been gifted is diagonally splayed over half of her cape, barely held together with Enid’s initial attempts to sew them together. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’ll take less than a breath blown on it for it to fall apart.

This is the only time Enid wished she had paid more attention in her home economics class. But no, she had to be all discriminatory and think that sewing is too feminine and refuse to do more than the absolute bare minimum. 

She knew it was probably dumb to make such a last minute costume change but once the idea popped into her head, she couldn’t get rid of it.

She wanted to stand on stage, proudly as herself. And she wanted others to see that and share the same pride as her.

“Lurch!” Morticia calls and instantly, Lurch is by their side.

“Would you be a dear and help Enid with this, please?”

“I had a feeling you would be back,” Weems says, sliding up beside Enid as she waits for her cue from Thornhill.

“I figured,” Enid says.

Apparently Weems hadn’t relayed Enid’s message this morning about her leaving. Which Enid is extremely grateful for because she hadn’t even thought about what would have happened if Weems had and had already removed France’s slot from the schedule this evening.

Big move on Weems’ part. If Enid hadn’t changed her mind, what would they have done?

“How were you so confident I would return?”

Weems only raises one of her brows, as if Enid was asking a silly question. “Because you’re Enid Sinclair. You’re determined and persistent and your unwavering dedication is admirable.”

When Thornhill yells, “France!” and gestures to Enid, Weems gives Enid a gentle pat on her shoulder.

“Now, go out there and show them just how much both France and Enid Sinclair is capable of.”

She feels sick to her stomach with anxiety, just like she had felt with the semi-finals.

But it’s different this time because there’s also the feeling of excitement. And exhilaration.

It’s her time. She’s finally going to show everyone who she is. Her true self.

The familiar opening of her song starts up and when the lights come on to illuminate her on stage, her body is racked with nerves as she raises her cape.

Her heart stammers wildly because though she had told her mother she doesn’t want to hide anymore, she’s still so frightened.

But when there’s the ear splitting applause from the crowd that only grows as the lights reflect brilliantly on the sequins of her sapphic French cape, Enid feels a wash of relief.

Smiling brightly, she gets into formation and she performs, throwing her entire heart and soul into it.

And she’s never felt more alive.

Or herself.

“You were enthralling.”

The familiar voice sends a shock that pierces through Enid’s heart and she feels an intense head rush when she sees Wednesday standing there in front of her.

Enid knows Los Locos Addams’ performances like the back of her hand by now and though Wednesday’s attire is similar to their ones from before, the dress she’s wearing now and her done-up hair is different.

Yet, Wednesday still looks no less striking.

She looks as alluring as ever, her subtle smoky make up matches her outfit perfectly, accentuating the sharp yet dainty features on her face that Enid feels like she could admire forever, just like a piece of artwork.

Her dress carries the same dark, kooky style as the others and though there is netting that extends from her body, it doesn’t cover a lot of skin that Enid still remembers feeling under her fingertips and lips.

“I know you may not want to see me,” Wednesday says, her eyes looking with uncertainty at Enid. “However, I wanted to let you know. Just how radiant you were on stage.”

Involuntarily, Enid’s heart flutters fiercely against her chest and she swallows the lump in her throat. “I read your letter.”

There’s no reaction from Wednesday. Not even a blink as she stares up deeply at Enid with glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Enid apologises. “For accusing you of leaking my notes. You wouldn’t do anything like that. I knew it but I was too stubborn and hurt to admit it at the time.”

Wednesday doesn’t say anything but her lips part and it looks like she also has difficulty breathing, which makes Enid feel a bit better. To think she has the same effect on Wednesday as Wednesday has on her.

“I told you I didn’t know how to set things right with my dishonesty,” Wednesday eventually says after a few beats. “I know now.”

Looking out at the stage and back to her family who are laughing and joking a distance away, Wednesday’s eyes harden and she presses her lips together.

“You deserve to win,” she says and stares at Enid with a determined look on her face. “Which is why I’ve decided to withdraw from the contest.”

Enid freezes, the sound of her heart beat thrumming loudly against her ears.

“You had asked me before why my family and I entered Eurovision. It was never with the intent to win. It was only because my father thought it would be fun as a family activity and…once he gets ideas into his mind, he is unyielding until we all relent to his whims,” Wednesday looks pointedly at Enid, “just like someone else I know.”

“Winning is more important to you. You deserve it,” Wednesday says with a pause. “And…I consider you of more importance to me.”

The tender look of affection and longing on Wednesday’s face floors Enid.

“No!” Enid exclaims, alarming Wednesday. “I don’t want you to do that.”

While Enid may be naive and ignorant still of this industry, she knows enough that the repercussions of Spain withdrawing at the last minute would be disastrous.

What would Spain think of Los Locos Addams?

What would happen to them with the Eurovision committee? Enid knows they would throw Wednesday and her family under the bus without a second thought if it means covering up their own fraudulent tracks.

And Enid knows the public outrage would be catastrophic.

And when she says Enid deserves it…

Who’s the one to say who deserves to win Eurovision?

Sure, maybe Enid wants it more, but does that mean she gets to? Just like that?

Though Wednesday and Yoko may not take Eurovision as seriously as her, Enid knows there are other contestants who do too.

Should only the public decide who deserves to win?

What about all those artists who had tried so hard, even harder than Enid, but don’t have as many fans? As much visibility or publicity?

Does it mean they don’t deserve to win?

Wednesday blinks slowly a few times, as if she’s taking time to process Enid’s words.

“I don’t understand. Don’t you want to win Eurovision?”

Enid thinks back to her mother pretty much warning how she’ll need to pick her battles and what she wants, otherwise she won’t be left with anything.

Because most of the time, at least, she won't be able to have everything she wants.

It’s sad, but also a fact of life.

Enid needs to know which hill she would die on.

Eurovision may have been one before. But it’s not anymore.

“No,” Enid replies. ”I mean, yes, but, not really.”

Wednesday scrunches her face up in confusion at Enid, temporarily stunning her with how adorable she looks, but Enid tries to focus and explain the best she can.

“I wanted to make France proud. I wanted people to be proud of me. I wanted to be proud of myself. But I don’t need to win Eurovision for that.”

With a small forlorn smile on her face, Enid looks out at the audience, all loudly cheering for the current performance. “Want? Sure. That would be nice. Get a nice boost to my career just like it did for ABBA and Céline Dion.”

“But I don’t need to win Eurovision,” Enid says decisively and turns to face Wednesday.

“And if we’re talking about what I want,” Enid whispers, thumb reaching out to brush against Wednesday’s lips, “there’s something else I want more.”

Breath stilling, Wednesday swallows and leans into Enid’s touch, her lips parting for Enid.

Thornhill’s screeching voice ruins the moment.

“Spain! You all need to be on stage in 20 seconds or I swear to god–”

Clicking her tongue, Enid retracts her hand, earning an exhale of frustration from Wednesday.

Wednesday turns her head to glare daggers at Thornhill and when she turns back, she looks at Enid hesitantly.

“Go,” Enid says firmly. “Do your performance that’s deserving of winning Eurovision.”

She runs the back of her fingers against Wednesday’s cheek, enjoying the heat rising to the surface and the soft gasp that comes out of Wednesday.

“And I’ll be here,” Enid promises, “rooting for you.”

Spain’s performance is phenomenal.

Los Locos Addams is phenomenal.

Wednesday is phenomenal.

And when Wednesday’s eyes find Enid’s as the red liquid comes raining down and coats her face, Enid is transfixed.

It turns out waiting for the results is boring when you already know (mostly) what will happen.

At least her family is a comforting presence around her and keeps her entertained as they cheer enthusiastically for France from their table.

Despite knowing they’re not going to win, you wouldn’t have been able to tell with the enthusiastic way they wave the mini flags around and cheer for France whenever the camera pans to them.

Enid keeps a smile on her face as predictably, Spain gets awarded the highest jury votes combined of 284 points while France gets a much lower score of 167.

Though she had braced herself for the set up jury results, it doesn’t really help dampen the sting, especially when the cameras focus on her and she has to pretend this is all brand new information to her and pretend that she’s pretending to be fine. If that makes any sense at all. 

Though she is pleased when she hears boos and outrage in the audience over some of the jury votes (or rather, lack of) for France as they go through each country.

And when they start to announce the scores for the public voting, she doesn’t feel as nervous.

Especially when she sees Yoko nearly wet herself laughing, seeing her very low total public score totalling 12 points, making her three from the bottom when combined with her jury votes.

With the carefree way she goes to find Divina after, she knows Yoko doesn’t take the low score to heart because like Yoko had said before, “And Eurovision, it’s all just a bit of fun, innit?”

When they announce the incredible public voting score of 362 for France, much higher than any public score for any country previous years before, her family wraps their arms around her tightly, celebrating the colossal achievement.

And Enid’s smile is wide and genuine as happy tears fall down her cheeks.

In the end, as expected, Spain wins and France places second, though it still fills Enid with pride.

“Congrats,” Enid says to Wednesday, genuinely meaning it.

Wednesday’s voice is steady as she looks up at the scoreboard. “You got the highest public voting score tonight.”

Enid follows Wednesday’s gaze, smiling at herself. “So, I did.”

There’s a small smile on Wednesday’s face which takes Enid’s breath away.

“What do you want? For such an achievement.”

Enid doesn’t hesitate. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

Wednesday’s response is flat. “Naturally. I had assumed we would already be in agreement with this.”

Enid rolls her eyes half-heartedly at the anticlimactic-ness of it all but thinks sometimes things in life are just like that.

Easy and natural.

“I mean, there’s stuff to figure out, like what to do with our long distance…”

“We are approximately a five hour drive away from one another. I checked.”

Enid smiles because of course Wednesday would have.

The intro for Tema de "Los Locos Addams" comes on and Enid can see the staff try to get Wednesday’s attention.

“Well. I guess you better get on stage.”

Wednesday glances back at the stage where her family is getting into position for the winner’s performance and when she turns back to Enid, she extends her hand. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“I’m inviting my girlfriend on stage with me.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“We have already won. What can they do? Disqualify us? For second place, yourself and France, to win? Not bad odds for us to be up against.”

Taking in Wednesday’s encouraging gaze, Enid takes her hand and lets Wednesday lead her up stage.

“No no no, there can only be a maximum of six performers on stage! These are the rules!” Thornhill roars out as she clings onto Enid’s arm.

Wednesday glares at Thornhill and makes a move to remove Thornhill’s hold on her but Enid’s mother gets there first.

“Go,” she says in French, without looking at Enid.

They don’t need to be told twice and Enid can just about make out her mother’s furious French to Thornhill who most likely doesn’t understand, “You don’t get to touch my daughter like that. You can shove your rules up your–” before they’re enveloped by Wednesday’s family helping them up.

As soon as Enid steps onto the stage, she’s deafened by the thunderous roars and applause that only grows as she raises her cape up and waves it proudly on stage.

And when she turns to see Wednesday looking at her with such adoration and affection, dark eyes sparkling brightly under the bright stage lights, Enid doesn’t hesitate to wrap her cape around Wednesday to pull her up for a kiss.

[alt image: A selfie of Enid Sinclair from the passenger seat of a car with Wednesday Addams next to her. Enid, beams widely and gives a peace sign to the camera as Wednesday does not look at the camera and holds onto the steering wheel with a scowl.]

Enid Sinclair Won something better than Eurovision this year :)

—

enidsinclair ✅  not that wednesdays a prize or anything

      | tanakayoko ✅  its ok bestie we know what u meant u gay loser

      | bianca_barclay ✅  🤔🤔🤔

      | pugsleyaddams_official ✅  pretty crap prize if u ask me lol

Fleur-escence  cutest couple ever! ❤️

bianca_barclay ✅  *shame bell* Do not objectify women, Enid 🙄

eu_genie  enid pls do eurovision next year! I know we can win it next time

loslocosaddams ☑️  🖤

      | tanakayoko ✅  wait how did u get a black verified tick

      | tanakayoko ✅  i want one

      | tanakayoko ✅  tell me how to get one!!! 🙏

HellaFella  dang, the gays just keep winning this year 🏳️🌈🏳️🌈🏳️🌈

PROTECT-ENID-SINCLAIR  Is she holding you hostage? Please blink twice in your next video to let us know!!!!!

TheHydesBride  watch them fake break up in a few months. everything is so fake nowadays, try harder.

      | geminisirens_divina ✅  watch me break ur face rn. bellend.

EstherSinclair  Enid, remember to message me when you arrive.

      | loslocosaddams ☑️  No te preocupes, we shall remind Enid.

gay4yoko  asking 4 a friend, is ur gf single 👀

Enidmademegay  🥹 whaaa enid is taken??

      | bi-bi-miss-american-bi  brah, where have you been, they literally kissed on stage LOL

            | Enidmademegay  receipts plss

                  | bi-bi-miss-american-bi  link here! @ around the 0:32 mark       

euro-fanatic  u no, u dnt even get any money 4 winning eurovision so what r u saying abt her rofl

enidsinclair ✅  I just wanted to make a cute post about how I have a gf now 😭

enidsinclair ✅  I didn’t mean any offence 😬

enidsinclair ✅  but I guess I forgot to take into account that I’m dumb

enidsinclair ✅  and I’ll shut up now

enidsinclair ✅  I respect all women

“Perhaps you should release it,” Wednesday suggests.

“No, I hate it. Why does this video have the highest number of views?”

Enid looks down at her one minute looping video she posted a few hours ago for her impromptu song titled, What Would Wednesday Do (WWWD) that she had created on the fly when she saw a montage someone had made with clips of Wednesday glaring at the camera and handing out her usual hostile remarks to interviewers.

“It is assnine!”

“Asinine. You mean to say your song is asinine.”

Enid gasps. “How could you say this about your girlfriend’s song?”

Wednesday lets out a sigh that only deepens when Enid exclaims in realisation, “Oh no, and I wrote a song in English! What have I done?!”

Though her relationship with her mother has been a lot better now that she’s been more supportive of her career choice, Enid guesses it’s too much to ask for this to extend to Wednesday.

“Maman! You promised you would try.”

“I can’t help it if my English is bad and I am more comfortable speaking in French in my own home,” her mother innocently says.

But before Enid can admonish her and tell her how rude it is because Wednesday literally drove all this way from Spain to meet her (amongst other things but her mother doesn’t need to know about any of that ), and how her English is perfectly fine, Wednesday interjects.

“Madame Sinclair, if you wish to converse in French then by all means, please do.” 

Enid blinks three times before she realises Wednesday had not only understood what they were saying, but she had responded back in French.

Fluently.

The kind of fluency that can only come with years of speaking and not just something Wednesday could have picked up after they started dating.

There’s no way even for a fast learner like Wednesday to learn this quickly. Enid would know from her own Duolingo Spanish lessons.

Blinking in surprise a few times, her mother looks over at Wednesday with an impressed look on her face. “Your French is really good. How did you manage to gain such fluency living in Spain?”

“Thank you for such high praise, Madame Sinclair. It means a lot coming from you.”

Enid’s jaw is slack as she hears the unusual flattery coming from Wednesday.

She did not expect Wednesday to have such a devious side when it comes to meeting the parents.

“Many of my relatives, mostly from my mother’s side, speak French. I also went to a French school in Spain. My parents were told the curriculum is much more advanced than even what other private education can offer.”

Looking Wednesday up and down with something close to awe on her face, her mother nods to herself.

“Please, call me Esther,” she says before gesturing over to Enid, “or ‘Maman’, just like Enid does.”

Sighing in exaggeration, she adds, “It must have been a great achievement for you to get into a French school abroad, I hear they have such high entry standards. Unlike our stupid Enid who never did well in school at all.”

“Hey–!”

“Let me bring out the good teacups for you,” her mother interrupts, excitedly going off to the kitchen, turning back only to send Wednesday a genuine smile of approval. “Is there any particular tea you would like?”

“None in particular, thank you. I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Maman, I want–”

“Shush Enid, you will have what I bring out.”

Grumbling, Enid turns to Wednesday. "You knew French all this time?!"

“Ma chère, there is still much for us to learn of each other,” Wednesday says and presses her lips against Enid’s.

Enid hmphs but eventually concedes and kisses her back.

Suddenly pulling back, to Wednesday’s disapproval, Enid exclaims excitedly, “Oooooh, but you know what this means?”

Wednesday offers Enid a cautionary glance and her face already looks like she knows what Enid is going to say.

“Enid.”

“We can do duets in French!”

Enid Sinclair (album)

This article is about the self-titled debut album by Enid Sinclair. For the artist, see Enid Sinclair.

[alt image: A box holds the following items: £20 banknote with lyrics for “est-ce que tu vas m'oublier?” written on it, a used Mersey river cruise ticket, a cassette labelled “est-ce que tu vas m'oublier? ”, and a Liverpool FC poncho.]

Track listing

Standard edition

1. “parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne (même si ça ne devrait pas)”
2. “je ne parle pas anglais”
3. “elle me doit 17,80£”
4. “je ne suis pas une crétine (je le promets)”
5. “tu peux compter sur moi, bébé”
6. “est-ce que tu vas m'oublier?”
7. “je veux être avec toi”
8. “tu me manques”

Deluxe edition (bonus tracks)

1. “What Would Wednesday Do (WWWD)”
2. “parce que toi et moi, ça fonctionne (même si ça ne devrait pas)” (featuring Wednesday Addams)