Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Red String of fate. A thin thread, tied around one’s ankle, connecting people to each other. To their soulmates. A despicable thing, Wednesday thought. Her parents had succumbed to the curse. Her father and mother, tied together, forevermore. 

Sometimes, Wednesday thought they’d taken the curse too literally. Whenever they weren’t fussing over her or Pugsly, her brother, they were tied to each other's hips, eating each other's faces. Wednesday didn’t want to end up like them. 

Picking up the thread, Wednesday ran her fingers over it. It was soft, like yarn, and emitted a faint, red glow. Pathetic. 

How could one believe in soulmates? Romance was overrated. 

Wednesday let go of the string. Heat pulsed in her cheeks. Who could ever love her? Some twisted monster, probably, who’d use her for their own gain and nothing more. Chest tightening, Wednesday closed her eyes. 

Some of the kids in her school had already met their soulmates. At the ripe age of ten-years-old. How far away was the person on the other side of the forsaken string? Were they ever destined to meet?

Pursing her lips, Wednesday crossed her arms. Whoever it was tied to her string was probably unfit. They couldn’t keep up with her. Because Wednesday was destined to be alone. She’d known that her whole life. All of the kids her age were too childish for her. Wednesday was much too sophisticated for the person on the other end of her string. 

Plus, Wednesday knew, deep down, her soulmate would be better off without her. Just as she’d overheard her therapists tell her parents, many, many times before, she was incapable of making real human connections. Wretched. Wednesday, herself, was a despicable human, meant to live out the rest of her life in solitude. 

Suddenly, an impulse rushed towards the front of her mind. She could make it so that, if she ever did meet her soulmate, they’d never know. Without giving it a second thought, Wednesday severed the string, watching as it lurched away at lightning speed, heading towards her soulmate. 

Pink. Her bedroom was an abysmal array of colors, the most prominent of which was an appalling, vibrant pink. The synthetic dyes made Wednesday’s skin tingle. Her stomach twisted just as her roommate, a flamboyant werewolf with brightly colored hair, rushed towards her. 

“Howdy, roomie!” The werewolf exclaimed. Wednesday’s ears mulled over her voice. Not only was this girl perky with her room decor, but also in attitude. Rolling her eyes, Wednesday looked over her roommate, distaste on her tongue. 

Principal Weems, a tall blonde woman, with a distinct British accent spoke, a permanent smile coating her face. “Wednesday, this is Enid Sinclair.” 

Peering at the principal, then Enid, Wednesday shivered. Why was everyone at Nevermore so intense? This was far different than what she’d expect for an outcast school. Wednesday had presumed everyone here would be more resolved than this. How was she supposed to survive in this school of extroverts? 

Enid, looking over Wednesday, softened. Why was Enid pitying her? What had she done to make Enid look at her like that? “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” 

Wednesday nearly rolled her eyes. She always looked like this. Did everyone always think she looked sick? How deplorable. 

“Wednesday always looks half dead,” her father interjected. 

“Oh,” Enid said, shaking off her prior worries. She opened her arms, obviously expecting a hug from the smaller girl. Like that was ever gonna happen. “Welcome to Ophelia Hall!” 

Adverse to any kind of touch, Wednesday takes a step back. Inwardly, she growls. How could she possibly get along with this Enid girl? Colorful, social, overly friendly, and most of all, touchy. Curling in on herself, Wednesday looks at Enid, who hardly reacts to her repulse towards the hug, other than a cheerful smile and a few, overly bright words. 

“Not a hugger,” Enid says, “got it.” 

This time, Wednesday’s mother speaks for her. ”Please excuse Wednesday, she is allergic to color.”

Wednesday scoffs to herself. If she had anything to say to Enid, she’d say it. Just because she was roommates with Enid doesn’t mean she has to be her friend. 

Wednesday doesn’t do friends. Not anymore. Not after the entire elementary school rejected her. Her only “friend” was Pugsly, and their main form of “playing” was torture. Wednesday liked it that way. She enjoyed solitude. 

Her mother and father, however, didn’t seem to understand that, and instead, seemed intent on making her friends for her. 

“Oh,” Enid says, grimacing as she looks over the room. Curiously, Wednesday looks at the girl again. Was she remorseful of her decoration choices after learning of her allergy? That couldn’t possibly be true. “What happens to you?” 

“I break out into hives and the flesh peels off my bones,” Wednesday lied. In reality, she got a mild, itchy rash that could overall be treated with simple Benadryl. Inwardly grinning, she looked over Enid for any type of reaction. The taller girl grimaces. 

Wednesday holds her retort of Enid’s reaction to herself. This werewolf was unfit to be her roommate if she couldn’t deal with murder, misery, and torture. Unfortunately for Wednesday, she was stuck with rainbows and sparkles. 

“Enid, please take Wednesday to the registers office to pick up her uniform along with a copy of her schedule. And do give her a tour along the way.” 

Looking back at her parents, Wednesday held her resolve. This new boarding school was going to be a big change, and an ever bigger pain. As she said her goodbyes, and prepared herself to spend time with her new eyesore, she looked back at Enid, noticing something odd about the girl. 

Her red string was missing. 

She’d never met anyone lacking a soulmate before. Enid didn’t seem like the type of person to relinquish hers, either. In fact, she seemed like the type of person to have already met her soulmate and planned out their entire future together. 

Narrowing her eyes, Wednesday noticed a trace of string sticking out Enid’s uniform, snugly wrapped around her neck. Who had decided Enid Sinclair wasn’t worth being tethered to for all of eternity? 

Even though Wednesday had severed her own string, she still felt bad for the werewolf. For someone as bubbly as Enid, it must have been hard getting cut off from the one person who was meant to be stuck to her forever. Especially since, in werewolf culture, having a mate was extremely important. 

For Wednesday, she could just brush off being alone forever. Enid, however, must feel empty inside. Something inside of Wednesday flared up as she looked at Enid. Pushing past it, Wednesday followed the girl, trying to overlook her binding red string. 

It was almost as though it was strangling her. Wednesday’s bones went ice cold. Was this what she’d done to her own soulmate? It had been a mistake, all of those years ago, severing ties with the one person she was meant to trust in this life. She’d owned up to it after her parents had lectured her on not giving the poor guy a chance. And now, looking at the poor werewolf in front of her, Wednesday felt even worse. 

She’d never meant anyone who’d been severed from their soulmates before. What could Enid have done to make the so-called love of her life cut her off? 

Mind racing, Wednesday stared daggers into the back of Enid’s neck. Maybe she wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows after all. 

Pop music. Blogging. And now this? Enid Sinclair was, beyond all means, a mystery for Wednesday Addams. 

Eyes glued to the werewolf, Wednesday sat in front of her cello, listening to the howling below. Most of the “furs” were shifting under the moonlight, chained up in the werewolf cages, and here Enid was, claws sheathed, listening to Wednesday play music out on the balcony. 

“Why aren’t you wolfing out?” Wednesday asked, her voice void of emotion. 

“I can’t,” Enid said, her voice tight. Turning her hand towards Wednesday, Enid’s claws extended, only for a moment, before going back in. Sighing, Enid rested her elbows against the banister. “That's all I got.” 

Wednesday’s head cocked. She’d never heard of a werewolf who could not turn before. Was that why her soulmate cut her off? Because she was not a proper wolf? 

“My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but I’ve been to the best lycanologists, I had to fly to Milwaukie, would you believe it?” Enid said, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah, she said there’s a chance, I might never…” Voice trailing off, Enid pushes herself off the banister, looking at Wednesday. Her eyes are watering, and something in Wednesday heats up. 

“What happens then?” 

“I become a lone wolf,” Enid’s voice falters. 

Ice cold, Wednesday looks at Enid. If she could be alone forever, Wednesday would take it. Then nobody could be hurt by her. She knew, for Enid, it was different. Trying to sympathize, Wednesday broaches the topic. 

“I don’t understand, it sounds perfect?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Enid says, tears dripping down her face. “My life would be officially over. I’d be kicked out of my family pack, lose the prospect of finding a mate…” 

“Is that why your soulmate cut you off?” Wednesday interrupts. 

Enid scoffs. “I wish. They never even gave me a chance.” Heart stopping in her chest, Wednesday looks at Enid. Had End’s soulmate cut her off without even meeting her? Just like Wednesday had done to her own? “When I was ten, my soulmate severed our connection, without even meeting me. When my mom found out, she freaked. I don’t get why they did it, but they did, and I’ve had to live with their choice. Even before I knew I couldn’t wolf out I was an outcast among outcasts, and now it’s even worse.” 

Digging her finger into her skin, Wednesday’s jaw tensed. Ten years old. That sounded too familiar. ”Whoever cut you off was an idiot to do so, Enid.”

Enid wiped away her tears. Forcing herself to look at Wednesday, a small, genuine smile grew on her face. “Thanks, Wednesday.”

Unable to look Enid in the eyes, Wednesday knew, only then, what big of a mistake she’d actually made. Blood coursing through her veins, she decided she’d do whatever it takes to make it up to the werewolf, even if it meant she’d have to play nice with someone for once in her life. 

Was that even possible? For whatever reason, her whole body compelled her to be nice to Enid. That went against everything she’d stood for her whole life. Looking at Enid’s soft, blue eyes, she couldn’t be mean to her. 

Not really. Not after the werewolf has been so nice to Wednesday ever since she’d arrived. Heart pounding in her chest, Wednesday looked away from Enid, down towards the campus below. 

Werewolves howled in the distance. She was far too aware of Enid’s presence beside her. Ten-year-old Wednesday was a moron. And now she was going to pay for it. 

Wednesday had made a huge mistake. And there was no way to fix it. Enid had paid for it her entire life. All that pain and suffering, and for what? Worst of all, Enid had no idea it was Wednesday who’d ruined her entire life. 

What was she going to do if she found out? For once, Wednesday didn’t want to know the answer to that question. 

Chapter Text

Eyes-wide, all Enid could do was scream, as she saw the red string of fate bounding towards her, while in the middle of eating dinner with her family. 

Everything else was a blur. 

Her mother’s voice high-pitched squeal, her hopes and dreams, laid upon Enid’s shoulder, now crumbling to the ground. “How could that twat do that to us?” 

Forehead pressed against Enid’s, hot breath against her face, Esther screeched about how Enid was a disgrace to the Sinclair name. How, now, without a mate, she’d be useless.  

This was before they’d even know Enid couldn’t wolf out. A disgrace in her pack, the outcast of all outcasts. 

“Have you even met him yet?” Esther demanded that night. “You must have. What did you do to him, Enid? Why has he chosen to live without you?”

All Enid remembers from that night was the bile rising in her throat, tears dripping down her face, as she pleaded with her mother not to throw her into the woods. Abandon her. 

Enid would make it right. Find her soulmate and beg them to allow her a second chance. In the end, she has to make her mother proud. 

For ten-year-old Enid, a future in which she’d fail her mother, was one in which she did not want to walk. Being a lone wolf was the worst fate any person could suffer. 

Werewolf Conversion Camps. Psychologists. Days without anyone talking to her. One-sided fights, hoping to bring out the wolf. 

Solitude. Pure isolation. Enid was a lone wolf before she’d even officially been given the title. Part of her blamed her “soulmate.” 

How could someone choose to sever ties with her before even giving her a chance? Did her soulmate know what they’d done to her? Did they even care? 

Neck itching, Enid could feel the string snuggly wrapped around her, holding her captive. She was alone, wrapped in her own prison. Even without the physical shackle, the emotional restraints from her severance were enough to kick a wounded dog. 

Enid would never be able to get over the looks people gave her. Most wouldn’t give her the time of day, already thinking the worst of her. A thirteen-year-old werewolf, already separated from her soulmate. 

Labeled a psycho in school. A degenerate. Rumors spreading through the hallways like wildfire. Once they’d settled down, the damage had been done. 

Enid Sinclair, once popular and friendly, was now nothing more than a loner. Even her brothers refused to talk to her, lest they sink down to her level. 

How was she meant to overcome her chains? Was she destined to be alone forever? 

One thing sank in the bottom of her mind, ever present. A singular word, echoing, lingering. 

Why? 

Her soulmate wasn’t really meant to be hers, if he could judge her, refuse her, without even looking at her. Without hearing her voice. Enid knew that. Discarded him long ago. 

But why had he discarded her first? What made him choose to sever the ties? 

Enid assumed she wasn’t good enough. At first she’d tried to become worthy of her soulmate, even if she’d never known who he was, but now, she’d given up. 

How could she possibly be good enough for some random person, who lived god knows where? Especially if she’d never be good enough for herself. 

Her mother had called her a waste of space. These days, Enid agreed with her. 

If her own soulmate couldn’t even be bothered to meet her, how could Enid possibly be good enough for anyone else? 

Looking down at her bag, Enid closed her eyes. Zipping her backpack up, she readjusted her collar, and stepped foot onto the campus of Nevermore Academy. 

Heart tugging in her chest, she checked her phone, wondering if her mother had bothered to text her. Sighing, she shoved it in her pocket. 

Figures. 

Across campus, Enid caught the attention of a tall, dark haired girl wearing an expensive pair of glasses. She smiled at her, gesturing for her to come over. 

Suitcase in hand, Enid walked over to the girl, anxiety growing in her chest. Even if this girl seemed friendly enough, she’d probably change her mind about Enid once they saw her string. 

“Hey, you new here?” The girl said, a warm smile on their face. “Noticed you looked a little lost, and nobody’d come with you to help you settle in.”

Enid stared at the girl blankly for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “Yeah, my parents couldn’t make it. But Principal Weems is gonna come see me and make sure I find my way okay.” 

“Weems cares too much for her own good,” the girl chuckled. “I’m Yoko Tanaka. Why don’t I give you a personal tour, newbie.” 

Smile growing on her face, Enid’s shoulders dropped for the first time since getting on her flight to Vermont. Maybe this new school would be a fresh start for her after all. 

Enid’s roommate was living in grayscale, but who was she to judge? Her entire world was rainbows and butterflies - but then again it really wasn’t. She just made it seem that way. 

Ever since Wednesday Addams arrived, everything felt different, and it wasn’t just because the other girl was tracking down a murderer. 

Things felt easier with Wednesday around. Simpler. Despite her words, Enid knew her roommate cared about her. Trusted her. 

If she hadn’t, would Wednesday have joined the Poe Cup when Yoko fell ill? Would Wednesday have woken her up in the middle of the night when Enid had a nightmare, thrashing about in her sleep? Would Wednesday have listened to her shaky breaths, back against her bed, just present until Enid was able to fall back asleep.

If Enid didn’t know any better, she’d have thanked Wednesday for that. But Wednesday didn’t want her to mention that it had even happened, and well…

It was embarrassing, having been caught in that state, so maybe Enid didn’t want to mention it either. 

If Wednesday didn’t care about her, she wouldn’t put up with her music. She wouldn’t send Thing to check on her throughout the day - even if she wouldn’t admit she’d done it, Enid knew it happened. She could feel Thing lurking. 

She wouldn’t have rested her hand on her shoulder, telling her she was safe, that everything was alright, when she was sobbing, distraught that her whole world was crumbling before her eyes. 

Wednesday was the best friend she’d ever had, even if she acted like she didn’t care. Even if she said she didn’t care. 

Because, above all else, Wednesday did care. She showed it in small, discrete ways. 

So, Enid tried to be there for Wednesday, too. She’d go to town with her, drink a caramel latte, while Wednesday sipped espresso. Closed her eyes, avoiding looking at Wednesday’s murder wall which made her queasy, and gave her opinions on the case, even if she wasn’t helpful. 

She changes places with Wednesday during Outcast Day in Jericho, even if Uriah’s Heap was creepy. Even if she had to spend time with Ajax, who strangely wasn’t that cute anymore. 

And, Wednesday shopped with her sometimes. Even if the bright colors in the shop made her skin burn. So, when the Raven was coming up, and Wednesday had a date with that Tyler guy, who like Wednesday, didn’t have a soulmate, Enid spent the day with Thing, looking for the perfect dress. 

And there it was, standing before her, in the window of one of the most expensive shops in town. 

Frowning at Thing, Enid sighed. “How are we going to afford this?”

Thing, as always, had a plan. Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Go spend time with Ajax, I’m sure you guys can go to the dance together. 

Stomach churning, Enid shook her head. “I’m not sure I want to go with him.” 

Thing practically rolled his eyes. I guess he was meant to be with someone else anyway. His string isn’t tied to you. 

Enid’s own string felt particularly tight at that moment. “You know, sometimes, I wish I didn’t have a string, like Wednesday. It complicates things too much.” 

Thing tapped his fingers together, almost as if he was scoffing. 

“What’s that for?”

I can’t tell you. 

Rolling her eyes, Enid looked back at the dress. “Well, I hope you find a way to pay for that. Wednesday is going to look beautiful in it.” 

And with that, Enid left Thing in town, and found her way back to her dorm.

Eyes fixated on her roommate, Enid watches as Wednesday walks into the Rav’n, Tyler at her side. Jealousy worms it's way into Enid’s stomach, and suddenly Enid wants to be next to Wednesday, latched onto her arm, rather than that measly, unattractive-

What had gotten into her? Why was she thinking like that? 

Pushing her feelings aside, Enid works her way through the throng of people, asserting her presence to Wednesday with a chipper hello. 

Up close, Enid realizes for the first time how beautiful her roommate is. Her deep brown eyes, and petite, yet well built figure. How had she missed this before? 

“Wednesday!” Enid exclaims. “You look great!”

Her mouth upturns for a moment, before her eyes fall downcast, almost as though something else was on Wednesday’s mind. “You look colorful, as usual.” 

Grinning, Enid bumps shoulders with Wednesday. “Well, I hope you enjoy the Rav’n, at least a little. It’s going to be so much fun. I’m going to make my rounds, but I’ll catch back up with you roomie!” 

Wednesday stares at Enid, watching as she departs, and Enid can feel her eyes on the back of her head, burning into her. 

As Enid mingles with her friends, avoiding Ajax like the plague, she can’t help but search for Wednesday. It’s almost as if her eyes have a mind of her own. 

As the dance winds down, Enid sits at one of the tables, drinking punch, when she catches Wednesday on the dance floor. Her body has a mind of it's own, and everyone’s watching her. 

Something in Enid heats up, her face flushed, eyes glued to her roommate, her best friend. Enid didn’t know Wednesday could dance like that. 

What else was Wednesday hiding from her?

For some reason, Enid felt drawn to Wednesday, like she never had been before. She wanted to figure her out. Know everything about her. 

So, when Wednesday’s dance ends, Enid worms her way back to her, beaming. Words fall out of her mouth like honey, the moment a blurr, as the DJ announces the last song of the night. 

And, in one singular motion, blood begins to fall from the ceiling, and suddenly Wednesday is gone, and Enid feels empty and scared. 

Everything mixes together in the next few days. Wednesday conducts a seance, which Enid walks in on, blowing out the candles as she closes the door. She feels like she’d walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to see, which is probably true. 

Eugune is in the hospital, and the mystery is no step closer to being solved. 

The full moon passes, and Wednesday is further away from her, searching for answers that aren’t there. 

And then Thing tells Enid about Wednesday’s upcoming birthday. Something warm festers inside of her, and Enid realizes this is her chance to cheer her brooding roommate up, and take everyone’s mind off the monster in the woods. 

Baking the perfect cake for Wednesday wasn’t easy, and coming up with the party was even harder. But for Wednesday it was worth it. 

So, when she slips the note underneath her door, and slinks off towards Crackstones Crypt, the rush Enid feels inside as she pictures Wednesday’s reaction to her surprise party warms her up, despite the cool, autumn air prickling her face. 

And, when Wednesday wanders into the crypt, only to see her friends standing there, with a cake, the expression on her face is worth it. 

“Happy Birthday, Wednesday!” Enid cheers, bringing the cake out. 

Wednesday’s eyes narrow, and she’s silent, almost as though she was pondering what to do. “What is all this?” 

“Well, when I found out it was your birthday, I decided to plan a surprise party.” Enid says. She looks at Bianca, and then Kent, Divinia, Yoko. “I had a bit of help.” 

Skeptical, Wednesday looks at the cake, and then Enid. Her eyes soften for a moment, and Thing jumps off Wednesday's shoulder, looking particularly eager. 

“Fine,” Wednesday grunts. “But I will only stay for an hour.” 

Enid beams. Part of her didn’t expect Wednesday to stay at all. 

Being dragged into a creepy abandoned house was not on Enid’s bucket list. Adrenaline flowing through her veins, Enid’s entire body seethes as she looks at Wednesday. 

Enid looks down at her bags, then back at her roommate, silence hanging in the air. Then, Wednesday speaks, her voice low.  

“Where are you going?”

Enid looks at her, meeting her eyes. “Yoko’s room. I need some space.” 

“Why?” Wednesday asks. “I cleared your name. I worked it out with Weems. You and Xavier won’t be in trouble. You don’t need to worry about being associated with me.” 

Rolling her eyes, Enid sits on her bed, crossing her arms. Voice tense, Enid speaks. “Am I supposed to thank you?” 

“Why are you upset?” Wednesday stares at the floor. “It’s over.” 

“Over?” Enid asks in disbelief. “You put me in danger over your stupid obsession. You lied to me, telling me we were going to have a fun night, just me and you. Instead you lugged that stupid Tyler guy along, and didn’t tell either of us the truth about where we were going.” 

Wednesday’s quiet, refusing to meet Enid’s eyes. Enid continues, unable to stop. 

“You used me. You used him. And for what?” Enid scoffs. “More clues? Wednesday, you could have been killed. I could have been killed? And then what?”

“I needed to investigate,” Wednesday said, voice faltering. “That house is the key to everything. Without you I could have never gotten there. Tyler was merely a ride.” 

“It never occurred to you to ask me, did it?” Enid says, voice growing louder. “You had to lie. Manipulate me. Even though I’ve tried really, really hard to be your friend. I put myself out there for you, think about your feelings, defend you. People think you’re a serial killer, but I know you’re not. Which is a lot of people, by the way.” 

“I never asked you to do that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Enid replies. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do. They look out for each other. Do things to make their lives better, not worse.” 

“I’ve never had a friend before,” Wednesday replies. “I didn’t know that.” 

Rolling her eyes, Enid crosses her arms. “Well now you do.” 

Looking at Wednesday, she can tell there’s something caught in the other girl's throat. Something she wants to say, but doesn’t know how. 

“I just need some space,” Enid says again, her voice softer. “Tonight was a lot. And…I need to mull things over. Being your friend isn’t easy.”

Wednesday meets Enid’s eyes for the first time since the argument began. “You are the only one I can trust.” She says tentatively. “Anyone else can be the monster, but not you.” 

“Thank you..?” Enid says, unsure. “It’s good you don’t think I’m the one killing all these people, and I appreciate that.” 

“There’s something you should know,” Wednesday continues. “I have been keeping it from you, and now I realize it was incredibly selfish of me.” 

In one swift moment, Wednesday rolls up her jeans, revealing a red sting, dangling from her ankle. “I cut my own string when I was ten. November fifteenth. Nobody showed up to my birthday party. I knew, then, I was destined to be alone.” 

Enid’s heart stops for a moment. Wednesday has a soulmate? Her mind spins, and then she looks at Wednesday again, the puzzle pieces clicking into space. 

November fifteenth. Six years ago. That was the same day she’d lost connection with her soulmate. 

Wednesday was her soulmate. Wednesday severed ties with her. All those years, wondering who had caused her life to turn upside down, and now she knew. 

Did Enid really want to be Wednesday’s soulmate after all this?

“Now I really need some space,” Enid said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. 

Wednesday stares at her, just for a moment. “I understand. But first, can we reunite the strings? I don’t wish for you to suffer like this any longer.” 

Enid rolls up her leggings, looking at the string wrapped around her leg, mercilessly. She’s suddenly aware of the restraints, tied around her whole body, including her neck. She’d learned to ignore it after six years. 

“I’ve suffered with this curse for six years,” Enid said. “I think I can wait until I’m sure I want to be your soulmate after all this.” 

Chapter Text

For the first time, instead of pure numbness, Wednesday’s heart felt hollow. Over the past month at Nevermore Wednesday had grown accustomed to the warm, tingly feeling she’d felt when Enid was around. Her heart was growing in size, just like that stupid guy in that pathetic Christmas story. However, now she could feel it shrinking back. She’d broken Enid’s trust—how could the other girl ever forgive her? 

Knees pinned against her chest, Wednesday curled in on herself. Thing tapped on the ground next to her, trying to explain that Enid just needed space, that they could fix things, but Wednesday didn’t want to hear any of it. 

She always was, and forever will be, destined to be alone. 

When she was six years old, Wednesday had swore to never cry again. Now, her body betrayed that oath. Her lungs ached as ugly tears streamed down her face, staining her jeans. 

Eyes bulged from their sockets as Wednesday entered her room, only to find Thing impaled to a wooden beam, a knife driven through his palm. Blood dripped in slow, dreadful beads, pooling beneath him.

He twitched weakly, severed and dying.

Thing did not deserve this fate.

The hours that followed blurred into frantic motion and unwelcome panic. Fester. Electricity. Shaking hands stitching trembling flesh. A battle against inevitability.

Somehow, Thing survived. Barely.

He curled close, shivering against her sleeve like a wounded animal seeking shelter.

This should never have happened. It was her responsibility. Her failure.

Condemned to solitude. Destined to destroy what she cared for. Even the pieces of companionship she never asked for.

There it was again. The truth she pretended not to feel.

Shaking it away, Wednesday focused on the problem at hand rather than the pesky feelings bubbling inside of her. She needed to find the person who had done this to her family. Then, and only then, she could avenge Thing, solve the murder, and finally amount to something meaningful. 

So, Wednesday turned to her murder board. She dug into the Gates mansion, discovering the ugly truth covered up with a shovel made of lies. 

And then her therapist dies, Xavier is arrested for it, and everything goes to hell. 

Wednesday had never been so relieved to see the color pink before. Words stumble out of her mouth before they’d even reached her tongue. 

“You’re back.” 

Enid shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m gone for a few days, the place gets trashed, Thing almost dies…” A pause. Blue eyes meet deep brown. Enid pulls out some of her clothes, stuffing them into drawers haphazardly. “Someone needs to look out for you two.” 

Something akin to a magnetic force pulls Wednesday closer to Enid. She gravitates in the werewolf's space, unsure if she’s breaking the barriers Enid had put up. “What happened to rooming with Yoko?” 

“Yoko’s great,” Enid says, pulling out a roll of duct tape. “But I need more boundaries.” 

“Skip the tape,” Wednesday says. 

Enid grins, dropping the tape. “Don’t tell me Wednesday Addams is mellowing out!” 

“More like evolving,” Wednesday says, her shoulders relaxing. “Why the sudden change of heart?” 

A beat of silence. Enid’s eyes meet Wednesday’s, and they settle for a moment. Finally, she speaks. “Because we work.” Enid takes off her sweater, revealing her blue, bruised neck, and the red string wrapped around it. Slowly, she begins to fight the yarn, untangling it as she speaks. “We shouldn’t, but we do.” 

Wednesday rolls up her pant leg. Enid lays eyes on the string clinging to Wednesday’s leg, wrapping around it, though not as tight. Wednesday makes quick work of untangling it, just enough for it to stretch. “We’re like a weird anomaly. Everything you said about me, about us is true. I might be loud, annoying at times, but I won’t apologize for it, because you’re not perfect either.” 

Kneeling down, Enid joins the rough, weathered end of her string to Wednesday’s. “That’s why I choose to be your soulmate. Because, like I said, we work, even though we shouldn’t. You might do things that almost get me killed, but I’m going to stand by you anyway. As long as you cue me in on whats going on rather than keeping me in the dark. You promise to do that Wednesday?” 

Wednesday nods. “I promise, from now on, I will no longer lie to you about my intentions. You deserve better than that. My actions were wrong.” 

And then she places her hand over Enid’s, meeting her roomate—her soulmates—eyes. A bright flash of red envelopes the room, and suddenly the string phases through the two of them, untangling itself from Enid’s body, from Wednesday’s, until it’s just a few inches apart, connecting the two girls at the ankles. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Wednesday says. “For giving me a second chance, even if I did not deserve it.” 

“You were six when you cut the string,” Enid shrugs. “Everyone makes mistakes.” 

“You are more forgiving than most.” 

“Well, that poses well for our soulmate-ship, then.” Enid laughs. “Because I can already tell you're going to make a lot of mistakes.” 

A faint blush creeps up Wednesday’s cheeks. If Enid notices it, she doesn’t say anything.

Wednesday had not expected Tyler’s note to matter.

A simple request: meet me after my shift.

Enid had encouraged her to go, insisted, even, babbling something about how friends were important and Wednesday needed more than corpses and Thing. Enid had been wrong. So very wrong.

Tyler was not a friend. He was a monster—a Hyde. And Thornhill had been the puppeteer behind him.

Xavier rotted in suspicion he did not deserve. Wednesday stood at the heart of a conspiracy steeped in blood and resurrection and centuries-old vengeance. She was nearly expelled, nearly murdered, nearly carved open by betrayal and prophecy.

And still, somehow, she survived. Not because she was unkillable.

But because Enid Sinclair, sunshine personified, soft, sparkly, infuriatingly hopeful Enid, had exploded into fur and teeth and claws for her. Had ripped through fear and destiny to protect her. Had chosen her, again and again, even when Wednesday had given her every reason not to.

Wednesday had always suspected miracles were overrated.

Now she believed in exactly one.

When the moonlight finally settled over Nevermore, the night exhaled and the battlefield quieted, Enid stumbled from the trees, human again, shaking, naked, wrapped only in moonlight and exhaustion.

Ajax rushed to her, draping a robe around her shoulders with trembling care.

“Where’s Wednesday?” Enid asked, breathless, eyes wild.

Silence followed. Heavy. Horrifying.

Enid’s pulse faltered, but then she felt it. A gentle tug at her ankle, the red string warm and steady against her skin. Still connected. Still alive.  Wednesday Addams was not so easily erased.

Then, there was a slight movement in the depth of the night. Wednesday burst from the tree line like a revenant, blood-spattered and victorious, sprinting toward Enid. 

Enid barely had time to brace before Wednesday collided with her, arms looping around her neck, burying herself in the warmth of Enid’s skin.

“You're alive,” Enid breathed, voice cracking. “And you smell like blood.”

Wednesday’s laugh was small but real, a dark little spark.  “So do you. You’ll need stitches.”

“I don’t like needles,” Enid whispered.

“Then be grateful you have me,” Wednesday murmured, voice soft enough to break bones. “I will clean your wounds and scour the blood from your skin and hair. Then, I will stitch you myself. Come back to our room and let me take care of you, mi loba.”

Enid trembled, but it wasn’t from the cold. No robe, no moonlight, no victory could warm her as much as those two words from Wednesday’s lips.

Before she could reply, Ajax cleared his throat. 

 “…Since when are Addams and Enid soulmates?”

Wednesday didn’t move. If anything, she held Enid tighter, like letting go would invite death to try again.

“Since always,” she said simply. “We just needed time to catch up.”

Enid’s cheeks flushed pink. Ajax gaped.

Thing made a tiny heart gesture in the air.

And for once, Wednesday didn't threaten to stab him for it.