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“I’m gonna head back to the dorm, if that’s okay.” Enid shoved her hands into her pockets, shifting her weight like standing still might set her on fire.
Wednesday nodded. “Very well. I will return by nightfall. I have more texts to review, but it should not take longer than two hours.”
Enid bit down on her lip. Part of her wanted to stay. Wanted to hover nearby while Wednesday lost herself in books. But her stomach twisted unpleasantly, and she really needed a bathroom and maybe a quiet moment alone. When she got back, she figured she’d curl up with her phone, maybe pack more of her stuff. It was their last night at Nevermore. Tomorrow she was flying home. The thought tightened something in her chest.
“Well…see you,” she said, bouncing once on her heels before turning away.
Wednesday only lifted a hand in acknowledgement before burying herself back into her book. Enid waited for a beat, just in case Wednesday changed her mind, stood up, said wait.
She didn’t.
It stung. Not enough to show, but enough to feel.
Enid walked down the quiet hallway, each step echoing louder than the last. She toyed with the hem of her shirt, fingers restless. Stillness was impossible. Breathing felt hard, too, like something invisible had wrapped tight around her ribs and pulled.
By the time she reached the dorm, her hands were shaking. She twisted the doorknob fast, shut herself inside the bathroom, and sat on the toilet, curling forward as everything hit her at once.
Tonight was one of the last nights she’d see Wednesday for months.
Three months without her hugs. Without her dry little comments and the furious tapping of her typewriter at 2 a.m. Without the warmth of sharing a room, not just some dorm space with two beds.
Her throat closed up. Her chest squeezed.
She tried to swallow it down. Tried to breathe. Failed. The tears came harsh and fast. Ugly, noisy sobs that shook her shoulders and made her whole face burn.
She hated crying. Hated feeling weak, hated losing control. She dabbed her eyes with toilet paper, blew her nose, and eventually pulled herself together just enough to stand. She washed her face. Went to her bed. Laid down.
Then the quiet hit again. And it hurt.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she called Wednesday. She picked up instantly.
“Is something wrong?” Wednesday’s voice was slightly muffled, tense. “Are you hurt? Do I need to return?”
Enid choked on her breath. “I don’t wanna lose you.”
There was a beat. A soft sigh. “Oh, Enid.” Wednesday’s voice gentled. “You won’t. This is temporary. We will see each other again.”
“But—” Enid sobbed again, voice cracking. “We won’t be us anymore. And it just hit me. All at once. I got back here and you weren’t here and it felt wrong and it hurt and I just—”
“I’m coming.” No hesitation. No argument.
Enid blinked at the phone, her breaths sharp and uneven. “What—? Wednesday, you don’t have to—”
The call cut.
Panic rose in Enid’s chest. She wiped her wet cheeks, sitting up, heart hammering. Her stomach twisted. Was she pulling Wednesday away from her research? Had she overreacted? Was she being clingy?
The door to their dorm flew open.
Wednesday strode inside, coat still on, boots echoing, braid slightly loose from speed. Her eyes scanned the room with lethal focus until they landed on Enid.
Enid sat up fully, clutching her pillow. “Wedns—”
Wednesday crossed the room in three sharp steps and dropped to her knees beside the bed, hands immediately cupping Enid’s face.
“You do not lose me simply because distance interferes.” Her voice was firm, but her thumbs traced Enid’s cheeks like she was something fragile. “I refuse to be lost.”
Enid dissolved again, leaning into her touch. “I know, I know, I just…I got in my head and then I was alone and everything felt so big and I started thinking—” Another sob wracked her. “Three months is so long.”
“It is not.” Wednesday’s tone was flat, but her grip was gentle. “It is a fraction of our lives. A comma, not a period.”
Enid sniffed a laugh at the pun. “You made a writing joke on on purpose.”
Wednesday’s lips twitched. “Perhaps.”
She climbed onto the bed without asking and pulled Enid into her lap, stiff at first, then softening as Enid buried her face in her shoulder. Enid clung to her shirt, shaking.
Wednesday pressed her forehead to Enid’s temple. “You should have told me you were distressed. I do not enjoy when you suffer alone.”
“I didn’t want to ruin your studying,” Enid hiccuped.
“Your emotional stability takes precedence over poorly translated alchemical texts,” Wednesday muttered into her hair. “Annoyingly.”
Enid giggled through tears, shoulders shaking. “Annoyingly?”
“Yes.” Wednesday’s hand slid up and down her back in slow, steady strokes. “I am rather...attached. It is inconvenient.”
Enid pulled back enough to see her face. “I love you so much.”
Wednesday blinked at her, expression unreadable, but her hand found Enid’s and squeezed.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Enid’s chest tightened all over again, but this time with warmth, not panic.
“I will not allow three months to extinguish what we have built,” Wednesday said, voice low. “I am not so easily rid of.”
Enid sniffled again, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Promise?”
Wednesday leaned forward and pressed the faintest kiss to her cheek. Precise, reverent, like she was sealing an oath.
“I do not make promises lightly,” she whispered. “But yes. I promise.”
Enid wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. Wednesday froze for half a second, then melted, arms winding around Enid’s waist, holding her as if daring the universe to try and pry them apart.
“We will speak every night,” Wednesday murmured. “If the signal breaks, I will write. If the post fails, I will appear at your door with a shovel and a freshly signed escape plan.”
Enid laughed wetly. “Only you could threaten the postal service and make me feel better.”
“I am multi-talented.”
They stayed like that, tangled up, breathing together until Enid’s body stopped shaking.
Finally, Wednesday brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “Tell me. What do you need right now?”
Enid whispered, “Don’t let go yet.”
Wednesday’s hold tightened immediately. “I had no intention to.”
Enid woke up before the sun.
She didn’t want to lose a single second with Wednesday today. Not one breath, not one glance, not one quiet moment where they could still pretend tomorrow wasn’t coming.
Going home felt like stepping backwards into a life she’d already outrun. Back to her mother. Back to the suffocating expectations and the never-ending disappointment.
Esther Sinclair had never been kind. Not to Enid. Not to anyone, really. Unless she needed them to think she was perfect. After the Hyde chaos, going home had been agony. Esther expected a different daughter to return. Sharper, obedient, neatly folded into the mold of a “proper” werewolf. Her brothers did too. They never said it outright, they didn’t need to. Every glance made it clear.
And her father...He expected nothing. That almost hurt worse.
When she was younger, she used to wait for him to speak up, to defend her, to love her loudly the way dads in books and movies did. But real life wasn’t that merciful. He showed up physically. That was it. Emotionally, he was somewhere far away, unreachable no matter how loud she tried to exist.
Her mother, though, had always been too present. Hovering, controlling, pretending it was love when it was really ownership. Enid used to mistake it for care. Then embarrassment. Then anger. Now it sat in her chest like a bruise that never healed.
And Esther’s solution for a daughter who didn’t fit her fantasy? Conversion camp.
They had nearly sent her once already. The memory made Enid’s stomach twist. Clawing panic, the way it felt like her skin didn’t fit her body, like she might tear herself open just to escape the idea of being forced into something she wasn’t.
She hadn’t told them about Wednesday. She couldn’t. If they knew she was dating a girl? A human, stubborn, brilliant, unapologetic girl? She didn’t want to imagine how far her mother would go.
Where would Enid go if they tried to send her away again? What if she had nowhere? What if everything she’d found in the past few months was temporary after all? If Wednesday was temporary?
The thought slithered cold and heavy down her spine. She shoved it away. It made her skin crawl and her pulse rush in her ears.
Her mother hated homosexuals. Always had. Enid still remembered the day in preschool when her mom found out her teacher, Mrs. Honey, had a wife. Enid loved Mrs. Honey, she smelled like vanilla and kept stickers in her desk. But Esther had marched in, complained, and demanded Enid be moved. The next teacher, Mrs Trunchbell, was cruel, and preschool became miserable. All because her mother decided the world was “trying to indoctrinate” her.
Most kids didn’t even know what “gay” meant. Enid barely did. She just learned the lesson her mom wanted her to. Difference meant danger.
She’d spent her childhood suffocating under those lessons.
And still, the teachers never treated her badly. Even the ones who should’ve hated her by association didn’t. It confused her then. Sometimes it still did. How could strangers be kinder than family?
Going home meant stepping back into all of that. And even here at Nevermore, it wasn’t fully gone. Her brothers walked the same halls, even if they kept their distance. If they’d heard she was dating Wednesday…
Summer would be hell.
Enid swallowed hard and blinked toward the door.
It was her last morning here. And she intended to spend every heartbeat of it with Wednesday Addams.
“You woke up before me.”
Wednesday’s voice is low, rough from sleep as she pushes herself upright. Her hair is loose and rumpled. Unbraided from the night before, and Enid’s breath catches. This is the last morning she gets to see Wednesday like this. Soft. Unarmored. Human.
She commits every detail to memory like she’s afraid time might steal them from her.
Enid slips her hand over Wednesday’s. “I wanted to spend every last second with you.”
Wednesday lifts a brow. “Someone is feeling romantic.”
“Yeah, well.” Enid shrugs, but her smile pulls tight. “It’s our last morning.”
“We should finish our packing,” Wednesday replies. “Then we can spend time together without fear of forgetting something crucial.”
Enid rolls her eyes. “Or—and hear me out—we go down to breakfast and get first pick. Then pack.”
A slow exhale leaves Wednesday’s nose. “Fine. But I must do my hair first.”
“I’ll do it.” Enid’s answer is instant. She almost swears Wednesday blushes, a fleeting pink flash across pale cheeks before her expression snaps back into neutral.
Wednesday finds her brush and places it silently in Enid’s hand. No ceremony, but trust, quiet and profound.
Enid brushes through the dark strands with careful gentleness. She’s learnt that if she tugs too hard, Wednesday seizes the brush and does it herself. If Enid is gentle enough, Wednesday sometimes lets her keep brushing after it’s perfect, like she...likes it.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Enid says softly.
“I will miss you too, Enid.” There’s no hesitation. It almost hurts more.
The room is hollow around them, stripped of personality and life. Enid’s luggage sits packed, two suitcases, one practically bursting with stuffed animals. Wednesday had called her packing efficiency “unsettlingly impressive,” though she still didn’t fully grasp vacuum-sealing.
Enid starts a braid. “I wish I could go with you.”
“You will survive,” Wednesday says simply.
Enid snorts. “Barely. You’ve met my mom.”
“Briefly.”
“And being there without you?” Enid finishes the braid and ties it off. “I might run away. Alaska sounds nice. My mom wouldn’t find me there.”
“Why not come to New Jersey?” Wednesday asks. “I will prepare a room for you.”
“My mother would never allow it. Plus if I ran away, she’d check Jersey first.”
“I will build traps,” Wednesday deadpans. “And a salt perimeter. She will not survive.”
Enid beams. “You paid attention during The Wizard of Oz.”
Wednesday’s nostrils flare in offense. “Your mother is the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Your mom’s not wicked, Wedns.”
Wednesday scoffs. “We do not share the same mother.”
“At least yours didn’t threaten you with conversion therapy,” Enid mutters.
Wednesday goes still. Sharp. Dangerous-quiet. Enid feels the shift immediately and rushes on.
“Anyway! FaceTime me. Not regular calls—I’ll miss seeing your pretty face. And Thing better join sometimes, okay? And don’t pretend you can’t text, I made the app huge on your screen. Also take pictures of New Jersey. The nice parts. If they exist.”
“New Jersey has limited aesthetic value.” A beat. “And do not think you’ve escaped the topic of conversion therapy. We will revisit it.”
“I’m fine, Wedns,” Enid says too fast. “Just dramatizing. You know how I am. Besides, if I need a break, Yoko’s only a three-hour bus ride away.”
Wednesday doesn’t answer. Silence hangs, heavy and surgical, like she’s dissecting Enid’s words piece by piece.
“Once I master texting, we will have a conversation. You will give me details. All of them.”
Enid winces. So much for dodging the topic.
Breakfast is...fine. Which means it’s terrible.
On early-bird days, when the food is still steaming and the cafeteria staff haven’t given up on life, breakfast at Nevermore is heaven. Enid always wakes up early for that reason alone.
But today the eggs taste like nothing, the fruit tastes like sadness, and even the toast looks like it’s mourning.
Maybe food tastes better when you know you won’t be leaving the person you love in a matter of hours.
Around them, the cafeteria is a graveyard of exhausted students and suitcases. No one cares that Wednesday Addams is voluntarily sitting at a table rather than stalking the shadows like usual. They’re too busy rubbing sleep out of their eyes and trying not to cry about summer separation.
Wednesday pokes at her fruit with visible disdain. She eats three bites of egg, then shoves her entire plate toward Enid like she’s offering a sacrifice to a god.
Enid eats it. Because Wednesday made contact with it which makes it special, and waste is a crime.
“You could come home with me.” Wednesday says it like she’s offering a cure for mortality itself. “If you prefer not to have your own room, you may share mine. Mother will not mind. Father will be...tolerantly pleased.”
Enid’s heart squeezes. “You know I can’t.”
Wednesday’s stare darkens, storm clouds gathering. “Even if you are a minor, Enid, you do not need to listen to incompetent adults. I will simply take you.”
“That is literally kidnapping,” Enid points out. “And I’d still have to go back eventually.”
“It is only kidnapping if one does not have a moral justification.”
“That’s not…No. Nope. Still kidnapping.”
“And if the police interfere,” Wednesday continues, undeterred, “I will file a report on your mother for parental neglect and emotional endangerment. Then they will legally transfer custody to me.”
Enid blinks. “Wednesday, that is so not how the system works.”
“They insist on keeping biological families together,” Wednesday mutters, disgusted. “You’re my family,” she adds, quieter.
Enid’s breath catches. She reaches across the table, brushes Wednesday’s fingers with hers. “I know. But I have to go home. I don’t get a choice yet.”
Wednesday’s jaw clenches hard enough to crack. “This is unjust.”
“I know.” Enid forces brightness, the way you force a smile when you’re about to throw up from sadness. “Why don’t we go for a morning walk? Clear our heads.”
“In the woods?” Wednesday asks, like there’s any other acceptable answer.
“Obviously.”
Wednesday stands without another word, stiff-backed and furious at reality. Enid follows, her chest aching with every step.
She wishes she could take Wednesday’s hand.
She wishes she didn’t have to pretend she isn’t terrified to leave her.
She wishes breakfast had tasted like something other than goodbye.
Enid can still feel Wednesday’s lips against hers long after they’ve separated. Phantom warmth, ghost-touch soft and stubborn. It feels cruel that this is one of their last kisses for a while. Cruel and dramatic and painfully on-brand for Wednesday Addams, who apparently also happens to be really good at kissing. Infuriatingly good. Better than Ajax ever was, which is an intrusive thought Enid tries very hard to swat away.
“You are absolutely certain you cannot simply accompany me to New Jersey?” Wednesday asks for the hundredth time that morning.
Enid lets out a breath. “Wednesday, we’ve talked about this. You’ll get in trouble. I’ll get in trouble. Your parents will get in trouble.”
“We could hide in Egypt,” Wednesday says immediately. “No one would dare pursue us there. We could live out our days as pharaohs.”
Enid huffs a teary laugh. “We would not be pharaohs.”
“Then kings. Of Rome.”
“Wednesday.” Enid bumps her forehead against Wednesday’s. “It’s only a few months. Well…maybe two years. But after we graduate, if you still want me to? I’ll move to New Jersey with you.”
Wednesday kisses her again, quiet and intent. “Grandmama will adore you.”
Enid smiles through the ache swelling in her chest. “I can’t wait to meet her.” She leans in and kisses Wednesday again. Fireworks, ridiculous, bursting fireworks, go off behind her ribs, and she chases the feeling with another kiss, and another, greedy for every spark.
Then her alarm goes off. A cruel, chirping reminder of reality. Her stomach drops.
Wednesday pulls away first, eyes downcast, lips pursed. She grumbles, kicking up sand with each step. “I will walk you to the bus stop.”
Enid tries to swallow, but her throat has already closed up. Tears gather before she can stop them. She’s been saying she’s fine, that she’s prepared…but she isn’t. She’s nowhere near prepared. “I don’t want to leave you,” she whispers, voice breaking. “Please don’t make me.”
“We cannot remain here,” Wednesday says softly. “And as you reminded me, you must go home.”
Enid folds into her, clutching tightly, tears soaking into Wednesday’s collar. Words crumble out of her in broken pieces. “I...but you. I need you, Wednesday. I can’t—there—without you. I just...can’t.”
Wednesday holds her, arms firm, voice steady in that way that somehow hurts worse. “If I could take you home with me, I would. But I cannot abduct a minor without creating inconvenient legal complications.”
Enid laughs. Wet, choked, miserable.
“For now, mi lobita, we endure the separation. But summer will end, and I will reclaim you.”
Enid presses her face against Wednesday’s shoulder, sobbing openly now. “I don’t want to go. I don’t. Please.”
Wednesday’s hand curls in her hair, protective, unyielding. “I know. And I hate this as well. But we will survive it.”
Enid clings a little tighter, as if she can hold time still. Wednesday lets her.
And for just a moment, the world pauses for them.
The bus pulls away too fast. It always does.
Enid keeps her eyes glued to the window anyway, because Wednesday is still there, standing like a statue on the curb, hands clasped behind her back, watching. Waiting. Refusing to move until the bus is well down the road.
Enid presses her palm to the glass as if she could reach her. As if Wednesday could feel it.
Wednesday becomes a shape. A dot. A memory.
And then she’s gone.
Enid sits back and stares at her phone.
I miss you sm Wedns. How dare you make me get on this bus!!!
The typing bubbles appear instantly, and they stay far too long for what eventually appears.
Now would be a good time to tell me about the conversion therapy your parents attempted to impose on you.
Enid snorts. She doesn’t get the chance to answer. Felix leans over to read, and she shuts her screen so fast she nearly breaks her thumb.
“Who’re you texting?” he asks, smug.
“Nobody.”
“I bet it was Addams.” Felix smirks. “Everyone knows you’re obsessed with her.”
Enid glares. “I am not. And even if I was, it wouldn’t be your business.”
“Sure,” he singsongs. “We literally saw you holding her hand. Howell, back me up.”
Howell, half-asleep with one earbud in, blinks. “What?”
“Enid and Addams. Holding hands.”
Howell winces. “Mom is not going to like that.”
“You will not tell her!” Enid hisses. Panic tightens her chest. “If she finds out—”
Felix snorts. “Relax. Worst she’ll do is try to fight her. Remember Mrs. Honey? Mom nearly got her fired. Of course, she kept her job, and you got stuck with The Bulldozer.”
Enid goes cold. “Are you trying to get me killed?” When her brothers just shrug in responses, Enid digs her nails into her palm, bitterness settling on her tongue. “Fantastic. Guess I’m dying this summer.”
She stays silent the whole bus ride. Wednesday’s texts come in one by one, her music slowly drifting in and out as Siri reads them aloud. Her heart aches as the messages slowly become more frantic.
At the airport, alone at a Starbucks, she finally opens them.
Enid?
Are you alive?
I checked major news outlets. No bus crashes.
So you are ignoring me or your phone is dead.
Enid.
Did I offend you?
The guilt hits so hard she almost drops her drink.
Sorry Wedns. Brothers. Couldn’t text. I’m here.
Mom wanted to send me to werewolf camp to convert me. Didn’t go.
She hates gay people. If she finds out, summer’s gonna suck.
I’ll be fine.
Wednesday replies with a single knife emoji.
It makes Enid laugh. It also makes her throat burn.
They text until Enid has to switch to airplane mode, and she clings to every last second. Then she’s in California. Then in the van. Then home.
Home.
She has never hated that word more.
Her father barely looks at her. Her mother doesn’t speak to her. Felix and Howell brag about Nevermore and pretend they didn’t just threaten to ruin her life.
Enid heads to her room and puts everything away with insane precision just so she doesn’t fall apart. Because if she thinks too long, the ache claws up again.
Wednesday isn’t here. Wednesday is three hours ahead. Wednesday is gone.
Enid showers. It doesn’t help. She dries her hair just to drown out her thoughts. It barely works.
She texts anyway, even knowing there won’t be a reply yet:
I miss you, Wedns.
Silence.
She crawls into bed. It feels wrong. Too quiet. Too empty. No steady breathing across the room, no curt remarks, no dark eyes watching her fall asleep.
She clutches Maize the unicorn to her chest like he’s a lifeline. He isn’t. But he’s something.
Eventually she falls asleep, alone in a house full of people who don’t see her and don’t want to.
And she already knows…This is going to be the worst summer of her life.
Because Wednesday Addams is not here.
And Wednesday isn’t just a person.
She’s home.