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For as long as she could remember, Agnes had been invisible.
Not just physically, although she’d spent the majority of her childhood like that, too. Sneaking downstairs and praying they wouldn’t creak so she could get a snack, running from her room to the bathroom at night and hoping she wouldn’t glitch into sight while her parents fought.
It seemed the only time she was visible was when she was getting punished. No, Agnes, that wasn’t for you. No, Agnes, that’s too odd. No, Agnes, make your own dinner. No, Agnes, figure the homework out yourself.
She craved their attention like a moth to a flame, didn’t mind the yelling, began to associate it with love, because at least it was something. At least she was visible for that little sliver of time.
And then everything turned on its head.
Enid’s attention didn’t come with scowls. It didn’t come with threats (not anymore, at least). It didn’t come with being grabbed by the ponytail and dragged down the hall.
It was a new sort of love, one she’d wanted so desperately as a child, and for some reason, the little kid still lurking within her clung to it.
She didn’t understand the sensation at first, of course. She just knew she liked it when Enid held her hand or pretended to fuss over a little dirt on her face, and that every now and then her laughter would come out as more of a childish giggle.
But when she had noticed, one odd night when Enid had been painting her nails and she’d nearly called her Mum twice in a row, it was unavoidable.
Once she looked it up and spent far too long in the depths of Google figuring out that she was ‘age regressing’, whatever that meant, she was horrified.
Of course, the only logical reaction was to push Enid away.
She didn’t need one of her only friends thinking she was that weird. Enid had told Agnes to be her own psycho, not freak. She didn’t need to take on whatever mother figure Agnes’s messed-up mental state had placed her as.
She was a friend, not someone to put up with her childhood woes.
Yet, despite her attempts, Agnes should have guessed that if Enid had it in her to become Wednesday Addams’s girlfriend, she didn’t back down when people isolated themselves.
In fact, it was almost as if she dialled everything up. Every time Agnes turned around in the halls to head the other way, or turned down a stalking extravaganza with Wednesday when she found out the other girl would be present, she showed up in the most inconvenient places.
There was simply no way Enid Sinclair had decided to hang around the grade eight science class for four hours because she was ‘peer tutoring’ (on her phone).
Thankfully, Agnes was equally as good at fading into the background, and despite her grades dropping a shocking amount – honestly, how many teacher connections did Enid have to get into that many younger classes? – She managed to avoid her for nearly a month with only an offhanded yet gut-wrenching comment from Wednesday about how much Enid missed her.
That was, at least, until everything came crashing down in an unfortunate spiral late one Monday evening.
It was a chilly day in early January, the setting sun providing very little warmth, although Agnes hadn’t assumed she would need any. Her feet carried her down the well-worn steps of Ophelia Hall’s staircase, the chill nipping at her semi-visible fingers as she dragged them down the railing.
She had been bored for hours, which warranted the most desperate of her hobbies: stalking. Unfortunately, her latest victim was not as exciting as they could have been. She didn’t make a habit out of watching animals; their senses were normally too developed to let her pass without a trace anyway, but within one of her most recent trips to the forest, she had come across a little fox, and there was no way she would just let him wander around without a few check-ins. He was far too young.
A complete shiver ran down her spine when she stepped out of the building, yanking her sweater over her fists and flickering out of view for good, although her boots still left prints in the light snowfall that had occurred that morning. She wouldn’t be gone for long, but if people did start questioning, there was no way she wanted anyone to know where she was headed.
Agnes huffed out a sharp breath, the steam rising around her face, and broke into a jog, praying it would warm her fingers the further off campus she got, winding herself between the trees and slipping under fences, following the same path she had a million times.
It didn’t do nearly that; in fact, the only thing that it helped with was an ache in her thighs and lungs, but she ignored it as she approached her location and slowed. The snow was unbearably loud beneath her while she searched, and she could only pray it would not scare the little fox away.
When it wasn’t in any of its usual locations, Agnes huffed again, the chill beginning to border on painful. Perhaps she should have grabbed mittens. That said, the sun wasn’t on her side either as it slid further down in the sky, and Agnes finally made up her mind that it was time to go.
She slipped a little block of cheese from her pocket, grinding her teeth in irritation as her numb fingers fumbled with the paper wrapping, and she laid it on the ground where the kit would find it.
Deciding to take the long way back to cope with her disappointment, Agnes slipped off the trail she’d grown accustomed to, ignoring yet again how her lashes were growing heavy with frost the longer she trudged along, eventually reaching the lake.
It was peaceful in winter, covered by thin ice that Agnes doubted anyone had skated on since Christmas, considering the days were beginning to melt it. Still, in her boredom, she placed a careful foot on the edge, only wandering further out when no crack met her ears.
When she reached the centre, Agnes let herself fall to the ground, ice nipping at her knees and calves that were unprepared for any sort of outdoors extravaganza, only covered by thin, white tights she had slipped on under her skirt. It was nearly soothing, though in the same odd way that Wednesday described being tased as soothing.
A break from her thoughts, maybe.
Lying back, she stared at the moon, which became more prominent in its crescent form, snow tingling at her neck and dampening her hair.
The invisibility lifted from her bones, and Agnes watched as her torso came into view, followed by her arms and impossibly red fingers, although the tips had begun to go white with chill.
White?
Agnes shot up again, eyes wide as she pinched them together, only to be met with pins and needles and hardly any sense of the skin-to-skin contact.
Wednesday had warned her about frostbite the second she had noticed her sneaking out without a pair of gloves on (not that she was one to talk), although Agnes usually had no reason to listen, considering she was back before the winds and snow could really get under her skin.
What a stupid idea it had been to ignore the signs, visible or not. How was she to know how bad it was going to get? Would it need medical attention?
Agnes cursed, bracing a numb hand against the ice and pushing herself up, attempting to ignore the danger of the position she was in as the entire lake gave an undeniable creak.
She would get back to her dorm, soak her hands in some lukewarm water and pray they de-thawed, then assess her need for medical help. It seemed like a reasonable plan.
The lake creaked again, each step louder than the last, although she knew it wouldn’t be smart to run. She was fine, it was just the ice shifting, it was thick enough, it was–
“No,” Agnes hissed as a crack unfurled beneath her foot, only a couple of feet from shore. The ice was thinner there, water lapping at the edges from where an animal had likely nudged it apart to drink.
She took another hopeful step, then another. If she could just go further, she could jump, and if she could land on the shore, she could run back home fast enough to save her damned fingers and–
The ice gave way faster than she could think, splitting beneath her and sending her lower half plunging into the coldest water she had ever felt. Shock ripped a gasp from her mouth, the ice surely sliced at her skin and tore her tights, although she could hardly consider that as her entire body froze up.
Instantly, her lungs gasped for air, arms shaking uncontrollably as she attempted and failed to pull herself up. She tried to remember everything Wednesday had taught her, as well as that summer she had done Girl Guides, although fear was clouding her logic.
Controlling her breaths, Agnes did everything in her power to ignore the pain, leaning over and pressing her torso to the ice, then kicking her legs out and using the force of the water and her arms to push herself out of it and onto the unstable slab the ice had split into.
‘Distribute your weight’, that was what she had always been taught.
Snow collected on her clothes as she rolled towards the shore, pushing herself up and ignoring how deep her boots sank once she reached the edge. She knew she should have stripped off her tights – just as torn and stained with red as she had assumed – although the idea of running around without her boots was less appealing.
Despite the lack of coordination she was feeling in her legs, and the unnatural spike of her heartbeat that accompanied her bone-deep shivers, Agnes broke into a sprint. Branches and low thorny bushes caught in her clothes and hair, bringing tears to her eyes, but she was able to push on.
Once the pain turned numb, and Nevermore came into view, Agnes slowed, curling over and clutching her stomach, fighting for air through the cold. Surely no one had noticed she was gone. Maybe she could pull off a couple more seconds of invisibility and make it to her dorm. It was unlikely her roommates would question anything.
“Agnes?”
Unsure if she wanted to flee or start crying again, Agnes froze, eyes wide as she focused on a stray piece of moss.
That was the last person she needed right now. She didn’t need to feel like a kid; she needed to suck it up and deal with it. She needed to be mature.
“Ohmygod!” Enid gasped, the crunch of her own boots drawing closer as she likely identified that it was Agnes in the dusk. “What happened? Agnes?”
When Agnes didn’t respond, a warm hand pressed against her shoulder, and every ounce of restraint she’d had within the past month slipped away in a single motion. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks like waterfalls as she fell forward, Enid catching her with ease.
“What happened?” Enid questioned softly, the warmth of her body seeping into Agnes’s shivering form despite the nighttime winds. Again, not able to form a response, Agnes simply choked out a sob, her hands beginning to throb with the renewal of warmth.
“Can I take you back to my dorm?”
At that, Agnes could nod, aware that it was the most reasonable option at this point.
Enid’s arms swept under her legs, the ground turning from beneath her as she was lifted, head spinning uncomfortably.
In what she assumed to be an act of self-defence, both of them flickered in and out of view as Enid ran. She had known the girl was a wolf, although the display of strength was still impressive enough for Agnes to consider that it may have been adrenaline more than anything.
Once inside, Enid took the distinctive turn to her dorm rather than Agnes’s, bounding all the way upstairs and just barely managing to open the door. Her hand was shaking hard enough that Agnes felt guilty for putting her through the mental turmoil, but she was shivering too hard to even consider an apology.
“I’m going to put you on my bed, okay? Then we will get you some new clothes.”
She seemed nearly in tears herself, and Agnes’s voice was trapped in her throat, leaving her to only nod again.
Enid’s blankets were unsurprisingly warm and soft, and despite the burn of her fingers and legs thawing, Agnes’s breath finally steadied and she managed to bring a clumsy hand up to ineffectively wipe one of her cheeks.
The childlike haze she had been avoiding like the plague began to settle over her mind as Enid fussed over her, switching out her damp sweater for a loose, blue long-sleeved shirt with some shark logo on it that Agnes assumed was hockey related.
“Can you explain to me now?” Enid questioned when she started on her legs, and Agnes was suddenly very thankful for the numbness and sting when she saw the less-than-ideal condition of her skin.
She wasn’t squeamish, damn, she’d lasted an entire car ride with a dead body, but seeing her own skin so pale and looking as if a potato peeler had targeted it was not a pleasant experience.
“Agnes.” Enid paused, sighing and placing a burning hand on her thigh. “I need you to talk to me, I need to know if anyone else could be in danger, and if I need to go hunt down Wednesday. All these injuries look fairly surface level, but considering that you’ve been avoiding me to the point of skipping class and then suddenly show up hypothermic and bleeding, I have the right to be concerned.”
She didn’t yell, didn’t seem mad, but Agnes still flinched back, realising just how much her absence had concerned her.
“Nothing dangerous,” she finally murmured, breath catching under Enid’s glare. “I went out to look for something and made a dumb choice. Fell into the lake. You can guess from there.”
She only realised she was crying again when Enid’s hands brushed over her cheeks, clearing the tears with a gentleness Agnes had hardly experienced before.
“And you were on the ice because..?”
Agnes shrugged. “Bored.”
Enid huffed, drawing back and focusing on Agnes’s legs for a while until they were properly cared for and covered by some simple pink sweatpants, then removing herself from the bed completely and wandering into her walk-in closet.
The room felt empty without her, but another part of Agnes sighed in relief. She was giving her the space she wanted, allowing her to block off whatever fucked up part of her changed when Enid was around. It was okay. Her body was warming. The blankets were lovely.
And yet…
Agnes pulled one of the sheets over her face, praying it would muffle the little sobs that racked her frame the longer Enid stayed in her closet. It wasn’t fair for Agnes to want her back this much, not when she had been pushing her away, but tears didn’t listen to logic.
Evidently, her attempts to conceal her emotions were pointless as the door creaked, and Enid stepped out again, her face painted with so much worry it hurt.
“Agnes,” she cooed, placing herself at the foot of the bed again, the younger girl's tears only increasing the more she expressed her care. “It’s okay, I don’t know why you’re upset, but I swear, it will be alright.”
“No, it won’t,” Agnes choked out, pinching her still clumsy fingers harder around the fabric and pressing it to her face. “I messed up. You would hate me if you knew.”
She froze as Enid’s face contorted through various emotions upon figuring out whatever it was was linked to her in some way – or perhaps relief in knowing that Agnes’s avoidance hadn’t been her doing.
She opened and closed her mouth a few times as if deciding upon what to say, before settling on, “I would never hate you. I never did. I was jealous of you, yes, maybe a little…disturbed when you attempted to send a knife through my head, but it was never hate. That said, if there is something you are hiding that you think I would dislike, I think it would be important to tell me.”
Agnes shook her head aggressively, eyes squeezed shut. “Y-you can’t know. I can’t lose you. You’re one of my only friends.”
“The only way you are losing me is by pushing me away.”
At that, her eyes flew open again, the truth like a knife to the stomach. Again, words seemed to be at the tip of her tongue, yet refused to leave her mouth. Even if she wanted to explain, how would she? ‘You make me feel like a kid again’ surely wouldn’t cut it, and there was no way Enid knew what regressing was.
“Please tell me,” Enid begged, scooting closer. “I won’t get mad – well, unless it’s you and Wednesday off causing drama again, but even then, I won’t leave. I promise.”
She held out her pinkie, and against Agnes’s better judgment, she took it, a watery sigh escaping from her lips. Now or never.
“Do you know what regression is?” Her voice cracked embarrassingly, heart practically pounding from her chest as Enid cocked her head in consideration for a moment, then, as if by some miracle, nodded.
“I think I’ve seen the term on Tumblr before, like…age regression? Or do people call it agere?”
Agnes blinked, mouth slightly agape. Honestly, she’d managed to forget Enid’s Tumblr doom scrolling. Still, it didn’t seem she fully understood. There was no way of now explaining that she did it.
“Do you regress?”
Or Enid would just ask her.
“I-” Agnes bit the inside of her cheek, pulling the blanket down a couple of inches until she could speak without it muffling her. “Kind of?”
Enid didn’t speak again, just waited for further explanation, her gaze not even remotely harsh.
“I mean, not always. I didn’t even know it was a thing until it started happening. I hate it, it makes me feel weird and…I can’t really explain it, but it's just wrong. But I can avoid it, as long as I…avoid you.”
“Me?” Enid drew back, evidently hurt. “Why would I make it happen?”
Agnes shrugged. “I feel safe? I don’t know. I just figured out it was happening and got scared you would too, and then you’d hate me or something. It’s dumb, this is all dumb. I can make it stop happening, I swear, you’ll never have to deal with it or me or anything or-”
Agnes squeaked as Enid tackled her in a hug, rolling her over so their positions were switched, and Agnes was pulled against her chest.
“Are you kidding me?” Enid asked, her hand coming up to cup Agnes’s head in a way that made her feel perhaps the smallest she ever had around her. “Why on earth would I be uncomfortable that you feel safe enough around me to be yourself and heal?”
Feeling tears building up in her eyes again, Agnes attempted to turn away. Finding Enid’s sweater in place of her usual blanket or pillow, she burrowed her nose within the soft fabric, scrunching her face and praying the sensation would go away.
Slowly, Enid began to rock the two of them, a hum building in her chest that vibrated against Agnes’s cheek. She was hardly cold anymore, but her fingers were throbbing, having gone from a pale white to vibrant red and nearly purple from what she could see.
Carefully re-adjusting so she could see Enid’s face again, Agnes brought her hand up, blinking away tears and examining it. If she didn’t acknowledge what Enid had said, she could pretend it didn’t exist, focus on other things, the hand really was a good diversion.
“Maybe I should head to the infirmary,” she excused, flexing her fingers and attempting to pull back, only to be met with an arm over her again.
“Can we please just talk about this? I don’t want you to keep pulling away. I’m telling you that I’m comfortable with your littlespace – wait, that is what it’s called, right?”
Agnes clenched her jaw and nodded. “Think so.”
“Okay, well, I’m okay with it, and I’m okay with you being in it around me, and…if you need it, I’m okay with taking care of you. More than okay, actually. If you’d let me, I wouldn’t mind helping you make the headspace something comfortable instead of, like,” she scrunched her nose, “iffy or whatever. Like you’re still in control, but also healing, or whatever your brain uses it for.”
“But you’re my friend, you don’t need the burden of some…fake mum position or whatever my brain cut out for you.”
Enid shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I dunno, I think it’s kinda cute.”
Agnes sighed, attempting to sort through her thoughts as they rushed into her brain. Did Enid fully understand what it meant? To be fair, she was doing perfectly fine managing her right now, and she was bordering dangerously close to the headspace. And she did take on a more maternal role naturally. Even if Enid understood, was Agnes okay with it herself?
“I think this is the part where we hug it out, you agree to stop ghosting me, and then we figure out how those fingers are doing, alright, you little psycho?” Enid teased, lightening the tone, just as she always managed to do.
After a few more moments of consideration, Agnes finally nodded, and with it, a weight she hadn’t even realised she was carrying lifted off her chest. “No more ghosting – though you seriously need to stop showing up to my classes. Sneaking around and stalking is my job, it’s more fun when you aren’t allowed to be there.”
Enid giggled and pulled her in for a proper hug, which she returned as best she could without sending pain spiking up her arm. She’d forgotten how much she missed their embraces.
“Alright.” Enid clapped her hands once they had separated and slipped out from beneath her, placing herself back at the edge as she examined her hands. “I won’t lie to you, I’m kinda like…the worst person to be looking this kinda of thing over, but I can say confidently that the purple isn’t normal unless you smashed them in a door.”
“And you’ve done that how many times?”
Enid shushed her and waved a hand through the air with a smirk, focusing on her hands again. “I think it would be best to put them in some warm water for now, just to make sure they are fully thawed, then I will wrap them in a warm towel until Wednesday gets back. She will deffo know more than I do. Do you think you have hypothermia? Werewolves can’t get it, so I know like…nothing.”
Agnes shook her head. “My limbs feel a little off still, and it’s still a little chilly, but I think I managed to just avoid that.”
“Mm, I’ll get you a heated blanket just in case.”
Once a bowl of water had been heated in Enid’s extremely small microwave, she set it on her side table for Agnes to dip her hands in while she tutted over the rest of her, re-checking bandages and adjusting blankets until Agnes practically felt like she was having a nest built around her.
For once, the haze of littlespace, which seemed a little less scary to address by name now, didn’t feel like a burden as it pulled at her, and she allowed her lips to turn into a childish pout at the pain, which Enid immediately responded to by bringing out painkillers and giving her a dose, along with a cup of tea.
Not even thirty minutes later, she found herself tucked against Enid, a warm, damp towel around her fingers and some film she hadn’t actually bothered to look at playing on the laptop in front of them. It reminded her of all the times she’d seen her mother curled up with her half-brother, half watching something while fawning over him, although it didn’t send the pang of jealousy she usually found.
Snuggling with Enid was much, much better.
“Are you too warm?” Enid asked softly, her fingers running absentmindedly through Agnes’s hair.
“No,” she whispered back. She didn’t know when, but one of Enid’s stuffed bunnies had wound up in her arms, and she squeezed it, hoping the cloth wasn’t dampening its fur and fighting back a yawn. She’d promised she wouldn’t drift off until Wednesday came back and checked her over, but the comfort was not helping her case.
Enid hummed, pausing for a moment, clearly contemplating something before asking in an even more subtle tone: “Are you feeling small?”
Whether affected by her fatigue or too deep in the mindset to care, Agnes didn’t even bother fighting a nod. “I’m tired,” she mumbled back, “and tiny. Danger duo.”
Enid giggled, pressing a swift kiss to her hairline. “Wednesday usually comes back before two, which is in like, ten minutes, then you can sleep, okay? Do you want to go to your dorm for that, or should we just text your roommates?”
“They won’t notice,” Agnes huffed, repressing the urge to chew on the bunny's ear in an attempt to process her emotions. “I sleep in the forest sometimes, only in the fall, never with snow, don’t worry, but they never notice.”
Enid frowned, suddenly serious again as she caught Agnes’s face before she could turn away and pretend she hadn’t just said what she had.
“Agnes, honey, that’s not safe at all! Even us wolves come back in on full moons once we are finished running around. Why would you do that?”
“Donno. Ask me later, I feel too… affected by my mindset to properly respond right now.”
Enid sat up straighter, likely about to worry over her more before the door creaked, and the woman of the hour slipped in, covered from head to toe in snow, although far better equipped for the conditions than Agnes had been.
With one look at the two of them, Wednesday’s neutral expression – or what could be seen of it, ignoring the scarf wrapped over her mouth and nose – turned to a frown, which in ‘How to Read The Expressions on Your Wednesday Addams’ translated to confusion.
“What is happening?” she asked before either of them could speak, stomping the snow off her boots and shrugging off her coat, revealing that she was somehow still in her uniform.
Unsure of how to explain, Agnes turned to Enid, awaiting the older girl's response.
“Uh-” Enid sat up straighter, forcing the smallest of whines from Agnes’s throat as her main heat source disappeared, and waved her hands in an attempt to explain. “I was going out to grab my bag from the – shit, my bag…whatever, anyways, I was headed to the other side of campus for it when Agnes kinda ran into me as she was coming out of the forest. It turns out she had fallen into the lake and was really cold, so I took her back here and helped patch her up, but I didn’t know much about frostbite, so…we were waiting for you.”
Wednesday’s brow twitched – more confusion – though she didn’t say another word as she stripped off the remainder of her winter clothes and kicked off her boots, then went over to her desk and shuffled through a few drawers, coming up with a small green bottle.
“What degree?”
Enid blinked, watching her come over with her usual board stiff posture, although it was clear she was attempting to hide worry. “What?”
“Of frostbite. Is there blistering? Let me see the effect it had on her flesh.”
Leaning back, Enid tucked her arm under Agnes again and used her free hand to pull the cloth away.
Although she no longer based her worth on Wednesday’s opinion, or was trying not to, Agnes shrank back within her judgmental gaze, burrowing herself against Enid’s neck.
“That looks like second degree; the purple is not good.”
“Told you,” Enid joked, poking her in the side, although it did nothing to resolve her shame.
“Agnes, if you’re willing to experience a mild burning sensation momentarily, I’m sure any trace of the wounds could be gone by the morning.”
Peeking out from her safe haven, Agnes glanced at the vial, Wednesday’s less cruel than usual expression and her hands. Knowing her, the mild burning sensation would likely be all but blinding, and the pain killers would be useless, but the idea of not losing the skin on her fingers was also appealing.
“Kay.” She held her hands out further, biting her cheek as Wednesday wasted no time opening it and pouring the mixture onto the cloth she had been wrapped in previously.
It certainly was not a subtle burn – Agnes had accidentally touched flames with less heat, but with a supportive squeeze from Enid (and maybe a couple sweet nothings to keep her focused on anything other than the pain), she was able to get through it with hardly a grunt, earning an approving nod from Wednesday.
“Keep them wrapped and sleep, you’ll be good by tomorrow.” Wednesday turned at that, heading back over to her side and putting the bottle away. She then disappeared into her closet, likely to get ready for bed and complete whatever nightly ritual she performed.
“Well, sleep time, doctor's orders,” Enid said, patting her arm and pulling the sheets up further. “Are you going to stay for the night, or should I walk you back?”
Wordlessly, Anges curled deeper into her arms and the pillows, allowing her eyes to flutter shut in an obvious gesture. Stay the night, it was.
Within a matter of minutes, her breath had evened out, and her mouth fell slightly agape. Even when Enid explained in greater depth what had happened, she didn’t awaken, too lost to the realm of dreams to have a care in the world.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The smell of breakfast and black coffee was the first thing that hit Agnes as she came to, her mind foggy with sleep, eyes still stubbornly closed as she rolled over, wishing her nose could properly locate things.
Unfortunately, having slept next to someone else had left her much closer to the edge of the bed than she had anticipated, and within the first ten seconds of waking up, Agnes found herself face down on the hardwood, arms too cocooned in the blanket to have braced for her fall.
Someone cursed as she attempted to wiggle her way out, and then warm hands were pulling at the blanket, and she was free, flinging her arms and legs out in her usual starfish wakeup pose and finally opening her eyes.
Enid leaned over her, brows furrowed in concern as Agnes slowly blinked away the sleepy haze, only to find that it remained stubbornly in place. Really? She was still small?
“Good morning, honey,” Enid hummed once she realised Agnes wasn’t injured in any way, reaching up and brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “It’s Saturday, I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in. Do you want some brunch?”
Agnes yawned, stretching again and attempting to find the proper words to answer. When they didn’t come, she reached up with grabby hands that she hoped communicated her desires.
Enid broke into perhaps the widest smile she’d ever seen, understanding instantly and scooping her up from the ground with a strength Agnes could admire regardless of her mindset.
“I hope you don’t mind that I explained everything to Wednesday – she kinda needed to know why you were staying over, and it turned out she’d already known you did it… probably before you did if we are being honest.”
“Long before,” Wednesday chimed in, hardly turning from her place at her desk.
Surprisingly, Agnes didn’t mind one bit; instead, she focused her attention on some sort of prism that Enid had hung above her dresser as the woman attempted to find her something to wear that wasn’t the sweaty athletic clothes she’d fallen asleep in.
“We should bring some emergency clothes of yours over here, hm?” Enid asked, tossing aside her fifth pair of rainbow-striped tights. “Would you be okay in a hoodie?”
Diverting herself from the rainbow crystal, Agnes reached out of Enid’s grasp and tugged at a forest green cable knit that she doubted Enid had ever worn, though it matched her own style well enough.
“Hmm, that is cute. I think I have overalls that match, though they might have rainbow flowers on the knees,” Enid mused, pulling it off the hook and tossing it onto her bed, then grabbing said overalls from the drawer.
“Those are offensive,” Wednesday chimed in again, very clearly not writing whatever it was she had out.
“Then you choose pants of your own,” Enid snapped back, switching Agnes to her other hip and plopping down on the bed. “Here, you got it?”
Agnes nodded, pulling off her top and switching it for the fresh one as Wednesday did exactly as she was instructed, emerging victorious with one of her old-fashioned skirts. Odd, since Agnes had never in her wildest dreams imagined that Wednesday Addams, miss ‘no, you cannot even touch my spare pencil’, would share anything remotely close to clothing with anyone, but desperate times called for desperate measures, she supposed.
“Those aren’t pants,” Enid argued, but took them regardless. She was careful to help Agnes out of the sweatpants without disturbing the bandages, though they were not all that painful anymore.
Once she was dressed and ready for the day, what could only be described as full mother mode was activated.
Agnes should have assumed it would happen; Enid acted parental without even trying. It was only natural, though experiencing it at full force was still new.
Everything she did was under close watch, though in a loving way. Even when she slipped into her ability, Enid managed to find her and catch her, forcing playful shrieks and giggles from her each time an attempt to escape – from what, she didn’t know – was ended by a delighted Enid lifting her off the floor and blowing a raspberry into her shoulder.
Wednesday thought it was utterly ridiculous, and claimed the game needed higher stakes (Agnes agreed), the look in her eyes betraying her false tease every time she was somehow involved. By the end of the hour, her writing was long forgotten, and she was pacing the room in a rant about the uselessness of childproofing, which had been prompted by Enid’s recommendation that she keep her knives in higher places if Agnes was going to be small often.
“ – if an infant wants a sharp object, they will get their hands on it regardless,” she explained, moving around the pile of stuffed rabbits Agnes had been working on expanding.
“But it will be harder for them to get it, and there won’t be any accidents,” Enid argued back, adding a panda to the bottom, which Agnes pushed away again.
“Accidents are growth.”
“Until the finger is gone for good, then it’s a lack of growth!”
Wednesday paused, frowning. “And that is a large developmental stage for the child. Lose the finger, you won’t want to lose another. Plus, Pugsley re-grew his perfectly fine.”
“Perfectly fine,” Agnes mirrored with a hum, placing the final plush and sitting back to admire her work.
“She agrees, in fact, I am sure she would be perfectly competent wielding a blade.”
“You are not giving our daughter a blade!”
The moment snapped like a wire, haze fading in an instant as Agnes whipped around to face her, eyes wide. True, she had considered Enid a mother, that was what had started all of this after all, but hearing the word daughter thrown from her mouth casually?
“What?” she squeaked, a flush dancing its way across her cheeks, a matching one on Enid’s as she noticed what she’d just said.
“I-” Enid shrugged, turning her face as Wednesday merely glanced between them, unfazed and unamused. “Sorry, I assumed – I mean, it just kind of came out. You’re like a pup, y’know? I just associated it together and–”
Agnes tackled her in a hug before she could finish, sending them both crashing to the floor as she all but screamed in delight.
“You mean it?” she asked, pulling back just so they could sit up again and she could gesture for Wednesday to come over to them, who had been inching closer regardless.
Enid’s flush deepened, and she glanced between Wednesday and the girl plastered to her side like a sticky note. “Well, yes. You’ve been a part of our little pack for ages, Agnes. Whatever we call that family is the label that works for us.” She shrugged, averting her gaze. “I didn’t imagine it would be daughter, but if it works, and y’know, if Wednesday won’t throw herself off a building at the idea of being in a motherly position…”
“I’d throw myself off a building at being my mother, not a mother.”
Both of them yanked her to the floor before she could stop them, and she hardly fought as she was pulled into the hug. For once, a hug where Agnes didn’t feel like an outside piece, or perhaps one holding two mismatched pieces together.
For once, family just felt like family, no matter how it looked or who she was. There was no need to hide, to be something she wasn't.
She was safe (minus the knives), warm (minus Wednesday’s dead cold hands), and for once?
Accepted.