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Wednesday Addams doesn’t do picnics. She doesn’t do romantic walks in the forest surrounding Nevermore either, of course Enid knows that.
She also knows that with Wednesday, the way to get what she wants has more to do with framing than anything else.
“There haven’t been any monsters out to kill us for a while,” she airily mentions one afternoon, as she aimlessly saunters around their dorm.
Wednesday’s fingers still on the keys of the typewriter. “Yes, quite a shame.” She turns halfway in her seat, glancing at Enid. “The lingering scent of the Hydes is probably keeping away any that still roam the woods.”
Enid shifts her weight from the balls to her feet to her heels and back, fidgety hands clasped behind her back. “You think there are still some out there?”
It should hardly be possible, yet Wednesday’s eyes darken. “There must be,” she states. “This school attracts death and danger like no place I’ve ever seen. It makes sense why my parents like it here so much.”
Enid hums in agreement. “Do you think we should check? You know, just to be sure there’s no mortal enemies that we’ve missed.”
Any indication of emotion is revealed in a way barely susceptible to the naked eye. Enid still notices the way Wednesday’s shoulders sag ever so slightly under an imperceptible sigh, and she knows she’s won.
She shoots Wednesday a bright grin. “Yay! Okay, let’s go right now!”
Without waiting for any verbal confirmation from her roomie, Enid rushes back to her side of the room to pull on her sneakers, grab her backpack and dig up their snoods from her closet.
Although spring has started and with it, a few brave flowers have begun peeking up out of the mulchy earth, it is still quite cold outside.
Their breath comes out in tiny clouds and Enid spends about 5 minutes thinking of a lame excuse to hold Wednesday’s hand.
“It’s so cold today. Your fingers must be freezing,” is what she settles on, inwardly cringing as she says it, but Enid can’t deny it isn’t also very satisfying that Wednesday allows her to follow it up by grabbing a hold of her hand.
And they are freezing against her warm palm, so. Enid can’t suppress a small, pleased smile from pulling on her lips.
“Are you still cold?” Enid asks, after they’ve walked hand-in-hand for a long minute or two, entertaining the thought that Wednesday might allow her to sweep her up in a bear hug if she keeps it up. She might even let Enid carry her—Enid shakes her head to get rid of the image.
“I don’t mind the cold,” Wednesday replies, briefly glancing down at their joined hands. “The way it numbs the extremities makes me feel like a fresh corpse. It’s very comforting.”
That’s… Not the response Enid had been hoping for. It must show on her face, because Wednesday is quick to pull her along, further down the trail they’re on.
“Of course, I’ve contemplated the matter of my death extensively,” she declares, “and there is much more to be said for a more bloody demise.” Wednesday emphasizes the sentiment by clenching her fingers around Enid’s so hard that her claws come out.
It should make no sense at all, but it does, and Enid feels her heart grow twice its size.
“When that day comes, I’ll be there,” she vows, squeezing back. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
The corner of Wednesday’s mouth quirks up in a rare smile, warming Enid from the inside out, before it’s gone as fast as it appeared.
After walking for a while, they come across a clearing.
This is the moment Enid’s been waiting for. She drops Wednesday’s hand and runs to the center of it, taking off her backpack and producing from it a large blanket, which she spreads out on the wet grass. With a content smile, Enid lets herself fall down onto it, spreading her arms over the soft wool.
Wednesday gives her an incredulous look.
“What?”
“I thought you wanted to look for monsters,” Wednesday points out, as she kneels to sit down on the blanket next to Enid.
“I do,” Enid counters. “We’re gonna stake them out from here, duh.”
She doesn’t point out that this spot is entirely nonsensical for a stakeout, so out in the open. Or that it makes no logical sense to turn this hunt into a stakeout when they have no proof there is even anything out here.
Wednesday’s only reply is a poignant silence, but she does settle on the blanket and allows Enid to crawl closer to her—because it’s way too cold for April, damnit—and lay her head to rest on her lap.
They stay like that for a long while, content and still as the forest breathes around them.
Enid likes it here, even if the blooming flowers around them keep tickling her sensitive nose. She can feel it coming now—she sneezes, her body twitching under the force of it.
“Curse you,” Wednesday murmurs.
Enid smiles up at her. “Thanks.”
Wednesday smooths a few unruly strands of hair from her eyes and then keeps her hand there, her fingers knotted in the blonde and blue and pink. With a care that would seem uncharacteristic to anyone who hasn’t won the true affection of Wednesday Addams, she starts combing through it, her nails scratching against Enid’s scalp.
Her eyes fall shut almost immediately and Enid sighs contentedly.
Memory works in weird ways. Even though it’s been months now, Enid still gets the taste of blood in her mouth sometimes, paired with the sensation of skin and sinewy flesh yielding to her teeth as they sink into it.
She remembers the sound of her jaw snapping shut, shattering bone. Feels it crunch between her molars.
There is no rhyme or reason to when it happens. And it feels like a dream, almost, but the taste is too real for it to be; all bitter iron, warm and slimy as it slides down her throat.
Maybe it’s because she’s back in a forest, surrounded by trees and the ambient sounds of wilderness. The wind, rustling the leaves and whipping against her face. Bird calls in the far distance. The smell of the damp earth, rising from the ground. All as familiar as her room in Ophelia Hall.
She was a wolf for so long.
There were times when Enid lost sight of what it meant to be human. Dark times, when she’d become convinced she would never turn back at all. That Wednesday would never find her. Or that she would, but that it still wouldn’t be enough, because Enid had already lost that which made her human.
Alone, on the run and in the dark, there were times when Enid feared that the door had been closed for good.
Never count out an Addams with a crowbar, though.
Enid blinks open her eyes and places a hand against Wednesday’s cheek, nails scratching against soft skin. Wednesday watches her, her black eyes seeming more like bottomless pools of affection as they study her face. They briefly flicker down to her lips—Enid smirks and pulls her down into a kiss.
Wednesday kisses the way she does everything else: insistent and meticulous, moving her lips against Enid’s with undisguised purpose. The fingers in Enid’s hair tighten and her other hand closes around Enid’s throat, keeping her still as Wednesday surrenders herself completely to the kiss.
Enid softly bites Wednesday’s lip and Wednesday licks into her mouth, and for a moment Enid forgets that they have, in fact, done this before.
It always ends up feeling like the very first time. Dizzying and all-encompassing, as if the world stopped its turning once their lips made contact and she’s feeling the whiplash from it.
They move in tandem for a while, kissing and nipping and then, as the moment slowly peters out, simply breathing together.
Wednesday’s nose brushes against her forehead and Enid leans up for one last peck, which lands on Wednesday’s chin more than her mouth.
“I’m starting to think there isn’t anything in these woods,” Wednesday starts, and Enid’s heartrate picks up at how breathless she sounds, “and that you lured me out here under false pretenses.”
Enid grins, showing off her canines. “Well, you can never be too sure.”
There is a faint blush on Wednesday’s cheeks and for a moment she looks like she wants to say more, opting instead to return her hand to Enid’s hair and continuing her ministrations. Enid sighs and basks in the touch, happily resting her head on Wednesday’s thighs again.
How long they stay like that, Enid has no way to tell. She only knows that it must’ve been a while, as the cold has started to creep into her limbs, and at the same time it hasn’t been long enough.
“It’s going to get dark soon. We should head back,” Wednesday says, ever Enid’s voice of reason.
“Hmm, don’t wanna,” she whines, shifting so she can bury her face in the fabric of Wednesday’s coat. Enid sneaks a hand under it and around Wednesday’s middle, smiling into the dark grey tweed as her fingers creep under Wednesday’s shirt and find warm skin there.
Wednesday’s stern silence is protest enough.
Enid peeks up at the other girl through one half-opened eye. “Five minutes?”
Wednesday Addams doesn’t do compromises. At least, not with anyone else.
With Enid, she pauses once for show, before gruffly muttering, “fine,” and continuing to track paths through her multicolored hair with cold, steady fingers.