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Wednesday lifted one side of her noise-cancelling headphones away from her ear, allowing the cacophony of howling to make its way from Nevermore’s lupin cages to the carefully curated peace of Ophelia Hall. Incessant wailing, scratching of claws against battered steel. The snarling and slobbering of canines meeting metal.
Sounds like home , Wednesday thought. Between the myriad of carnivorous plants her mother had raised from mere weeds, the hours spent playing with Uncle Fester’s premium quality dynamite caps, and slicing the heads off countless dolls with her very first guillotine, Wednesday Addams was familiar with chaos and noise all around her.
Yet, sometimes, the thought of Enid wolfing out uncontrollably, alone, burrowed its way into her little black heart. The thought sat there, weaving through her veins like a rapidly acting poison, prompting a rush of concern that she couldn’t quite get to grips with. On nights like these, she would push down the anxiety. On nights like these, she wrestled against her eyes to stop them from drifting to the dorm’s doorway every few moments. On nights like these, Wednesday Addams lost herself in the first dusty hardback she could find, once again closing off her hearing with the black headphones Enid had gifted her on her first day.
Tonight’s selection was a regular appearance: ‘A Comprehensive History of Lycanthropy’. She had memorised the book’s contents already, distracted eyes skimming passages she had annotated meticulously months before Enid even wolfed out for the first time. Her brain absorbed nothing, black painted nails dragging slowly across parchment.
When Enid had begun to transform on a regular schedule, Wednesday had followed her diligently to the cages without being asked. She would sit, unblinking, watching over Enid until she returned to her human form, ensuring no danger could come to the girl. Moreover, she never found Enid more strikingly beautiful than she did post-transformation. Scars, symbols of power, uncovered by layers of opaque foundation, blue eyes glistening under the full moon’s light – she was exquisite.
But over time, Enid could no longer hide her embarrassment at the state she found herself in after wolfing out. Scrambling for her clothes, her hair tangled in filth, her body shaking with the physical toll of transforming. Despite Wednesday’s strong protestations, and her firmly held stance that there was no reason for Enid to be ashamed, they began to separate at each full moon: Enid with the other furs in the cages, Wednesday losing sleep alone in Ophelia Hall.
Thing scuttled over from behind her antique typewriter, signing words of comfort feebly at her. She’s fine. This happens every month. She can handle herself. She’s fine. Wednesday knew all too well the extent of Enid’s strength: she had saved her damned life last year fighting off Tyler. Even when she wasn’t transforming, she was the most powerful and bright force she had ever encountered. Enid’s phantom arms wrapped around her shoulders as the clock ticked over the twelfth hour, muscular against her weary frame. Wednesday shook herself and straightened her back against the wooden desk chair.
She’s fine.
Despite her best efforts, Wednesday couldn’t help but follow her gaze to the dorm’s entryway, eyes trailing along the planks where a firm line of duct tape had once been. Now, Enid’s recent crochet projects lay scattered across the hardwood, and Wednesday’s cello case had taken its place resting against her roommate’s wardrobe. The large circular window that let the moonlight in remained halved, but not so much for Wednesday’s colour allergy anymore. Rather, the unstained glass allowed for a better view of Jericho’s dense woodland, and… yes, the lupin cages.
She forced her eyes to settle instead on the polaroids hanging above Enid’s bed, entangled in flickering fairy lights. Pink nuzzled against black in photographic evidence of the matching snoods Enid had crocheted — and forced Wednesday to wear while investigating. A kiss gently planted on Wednesday’s high cheekbone in a moment of vulnerability nobody but Enid had ever witnessed. The girls’ hands intertwined on a patchwork blanket combining their signature colours, taken while watching ‘Mean Girls’: a classic for Enid, a horror for Wednesday. The perfect compromise.
Countless more photographs were plastered around the room, mostly on Enid’s wall. One sat proud on Wednesday’s desk, however, encased in a black, ornate frame. It was from the first time Wednesday took her girlfriend to Jericho’s graveyard: Enid’s face lit up with moonlight and admiration as her pink gloved hands grasped a black dahlia, moments before she presented it to Wednesday and confessed. Her sweet, thoughtful girl.
On full moons, it was imperative that Wednesday remind herself of these happy memories, lest her raven worldview come creeping back into frame. She had even replaced some brooding compositions with more uplifting music in her nightly playlist. As she sat at her desk, Beethoven’s ninth symphony flooded into her ears: the only classical music Enid had said didn’t sound like “the theme song for hell”. A smile almost worked its way onto Wednesday’s face at the thought.
With a quiet click, the dorm door was pushed ajar. Wednesday remained unaware, unable to hear a thing, until a slither of lantern light broke through the darkness of Ophelia Hall, causing her to turn around, startled.
Silently, she rose from her chair, gliding hurriedly towards the silhouette in the widening doorway.
“Enid?”
Body slumped against the door’s wooden frame, Enid’s eyes fluttered lazily up at Wednesday. With much effort, she straightened herself up, reinstating the girls’ height difference, at least until she dropped her head into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck, sleepy murmurs now muffled. Wednesday instinctively moved to shut the door, to regain her privacy, to avoid Yoko or Divina or any other Nevermore resident from seeing her like this, undone in Enid’s embrace. But, she found herself sinking into Enid’s warm body, leaving Thing to scurry across the panelled floor and seal off the dorm from the outside world.
Enid broke the hug momentarily to take a breath, allowing Wednesday to fully appreciate her radiance, illuminated by the light refracting the window, rainbow fragments of light dancing along her brow bone.
Her dyed hair was pushed back messily, swirled into a black hair tie she had stolen from Wednesday. It hadn’t been trimmed in a while, and strands stuck to her neck and shoulders, with her overgrown bangs plastered against her forehead. Her snug, stained tank top showed off her toned arms, wrapped in thick scars she had earned fighting off the Hyde. Dark pink and purple bruises adorned her shoulders and elbows, covering the freckles that cascaded down her torso.
Wednesday lingered far too long on the dark circles under Enid’s eyes, concern flooding her usually expressionless face.
“I’m okay, Addams, really. Just need…” Enid yawned, “just need– need sleep.”
Once again, her head nuzzled into Wednesday’s hair, and she let her arms wrap around the smaller girl, holding her as tightly as her exhausted body would let her. Sighing softly against Wednesday’s neck, she could feel their heartbeats begin to sync up, chests rising and falling against each other in perfect harmony.
We work. We shouldn’t, but we do.
“I need to make your bed.” Wednesday reluctantly pulled away from the embrace and motioned for Enid to sit down in her orange bean bag chair.
She started to arrange the various blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals littered across Enid’s floor into a neatly made oval, like a quilted nest, just the way Enid liked it. She preferred to be surrounded by a fortress of softness, able to toss and turn in her sleep without hitting a cold, empty spot on her bed. Enclosed in warmth.
Wednesday helped Enid up, guiding her to lie down and get comfortable on the fluffy cloud of plushies she had crafted. Enid pulled a pink fuzzy blanket up to her neck, eyes heavy with sleep deprivation. Wednesday gently took her girlfriend’s hair down, running her fingers through it to get the largest tangles out. So much for being allergic to colour.
“Can you,” Enid began, voice hoarse from howling, “can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
Wednesday held her breath and scanned the room as if she were expecting someone to walk in and chastise her for being so sensitive. She flicked between Enid’s watery blue eyes and the dorm door, praying Thing wouldn’t blab to her parents about this act of selflessness.
“Just this once.”
Enid smiled languidly, one sharp canine catching on her cracked lip. She shuffled over to make room for Wednesday, who sat upright against the headboard after shrugging her hoodie off.
“Lie down with me, silly.” Enid half-laughed.
She pulled playfully on Wednesday’s sleeve, rolling onto her stomach to look in the girl’s eyes. Wednesday huffed and positioned herself under the blanket, feeling Enid’s leg wrap around her almost immediately. Her cheeks flushed, betraying her usual claim of apathy.
“You’re so clingy, Sinclair.”
“Hm…” Enid mumbled, “only ‘cause I love you.”
It wasn’t lost on Enid how Wednesday’s shoulders still tensed subconsciously, or how she began to chew on her cheek, or how she averted her gaze, at the mention of love.
Wednesday Addams had spent most of her teenage years telling herself she was destined to be alone. That ravens are solitary creatures. That ‘love’ was not for her.
Though she didn’t say it, Wednesday’s love was present in the porcelain doll she stole for Enid over summer. It was in the way she no longer flinched at Enid’s touch. It was in the pink barrette she let Enid slip into her hair on Valentine’s Day.
It was in the way Wednesday Addams would move heaven and earth for Enid Sinclair.
“Sleep, ma chérie, you need it.”
After months, Enid’s heart still skipped a beat on the rare occasion Wednesday used that nickname. Warmth spreading through her chest, she closed her eyes, almost immediately sinking into a deep slumber. Periodically, her lashes would flutter, or a small snore would escape through her nose, but until she slept next to Wednesday, she had never slept more soundly.
Turning to Enid’s dozing face, Wednesday traced the outline of her profile, memorising each detail. Her mind had a tendency to wander to the grisliest, most morbid of places, and she’d be damned if she didn’t commit each detail to memory. The way her nose turned slightly upward, the rosy tinge of her cheeks, the faint slit in her eyebrow. Better yet was the twinkle in her eye after cracking a particularly cheesy joke, or the sharp nails that would dash the guts out of anyone who threatened Wednesday. No matter how dark things got at Nevermore, she couldn’t lose sight of what mattered.
For the first time, Wednesday found herself fighting against the clutches of sleep. Being relatively nocturnal, she had never been bothered by the insomnia that had plagued her since childhood. Besides, dark circles suited her.
However, having werewolf strength crush her ribcage was oddly soothing, and suddenly, she was watching Enid sleep through uncontrollable blinks.
As she drifted off, she abandoned all shame at her intimacy. Vulnerability was never Wednesday’s strong suit: she had avoided Eugene’s hospital bed for days in case anyone saw her cry. When Enid temporarily moved into Yoko’s room, she had denied how much she missed her presence every time Thing asked.
But now, Enid’s love had wrapped around her like a poison vine, enveloping her in affection until her blood ran warm with its toxins. It had burrowed under her skin, leaving trails of devotion she could never dig out, even if she wanted to. Her carefully encased heart had been cracked open, spilling its contents without fear.
She strained her neck upwards as much as her fatigued body would allow, and planted a kiss on Enid’s jaw.
“Wenny…” she muttered, without waking up.
Without hesitation, Wednesday Addams allowed herself to fall defenselessly into sleep, cradled in the loving embrace of the only girl that could break down her walls.