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A perfectly gloomy afternoon. Heavy clouds. High humidity.
Through the half-colourful, half-clear stained-glass window of Ophelia Hall’s top floor room, two girls sat on a grey bed, tangled in each other’s warmth.
“Wednesday—” Enid gasped between kisses.
Wednesday slid her hand down through Enid’s hair, losing herself in the softness of her girlfriend’s lips.
She pressed gentle kisses along her chin, behind her left ear, then down to her neck—
And without warning, Wednesday stood up from the bed.
“I need to use the facilities.”
Enid blinked, dazed from the kisses, her glassy blue eyes struggling to focus. “…Huh?”
But the dark-haired girl was already walking toward their ensuite bathroom, not looking back.
“Oh, Wednesday…” Enid groaned dramatically, falling back onto the bed with a pout. She was, once again, alone in their dorm room.
Inside the bathroom, Wednesday examined the damage in the mirror. Her lips were already an angry red, swollen from contact of Enid’s favorite lipstick of the week. She could still feel her fingertips tingling, like a faint electric shock, from the proximity of Enid’s vividly dyed hair.
She took a small bottle of cream she stashed under the sink, carefully hidden from Enid, and opened it. It was almost empty.
Dammit.
She sighed, carefully scooping a dab with her fingers and applying it to the irritated area. She couldn’t risk taking more of her umbra mushroom pills either. She had to ration them for her daily dosage until the next batch arrived in two weeks.
Wednesday Addams had been diagnosed with Chromatotoxic Allergy, a color allergy at the age of three. True to the Addams family’s love of monochrome, her baby onesies consisted of black, white, gray, and stripes. One day, when toddler Wednesday was tying a hangman’s knot with her mother’s scarf, Morticia and Gomez were shocked to see her face as bright red as the fabric. The family quickly identified the triggers: mainly chemical dyes for clothing or other manufactured products, and certain food additives. Without any help from normie doctors, they brewed their own remedies for their precious daughter: umbra mushroom pills to prevent reactions and a family-formulated cream, with beeswax, stinging nettles, and ash to soothe them afterward.
For 15 years, she had kept her distance from the world’s overwhelming colors, rarely needing her medicines, until she arrived at Nevermore. (Morticia hesitated to send her to Nevermore partially because of the allergy.) Morticia packed her daughter’s suitcase with pills and cream, reminding Wednesday to keep some on her at all times. Wednesday hated to admit it, but one look at her blonde roommate, with blue and pink dyed blonde hair, painted nails, and a bed overflowing with stuffed animals, proved her mother right. She started taking her medication religiously.
On that fateful night of Enid defeating the Hyde in her formidable werewolf form, they shared a hug for the first time. In that heartfelt embrace, Wednesday was struck by two things at once: the realization of her feelings for the blonde, and a severe allergic reaction. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), they were sent to the hospital separately, sparing Wednesday from flaring up in front of her crush.
Six months later, after all the hesitant gestures and awkward attempts from both sides, they had become girlfriends. Since then, Wednesday knew the monthly supply would not be enough to withstand the… additional proximity she shared with Enid. Still, she refused to request more. That would mean revealing the new development in her life to her nosy family. It wasn’t shame that stopped her, but rather a desire to keep this delicate, blooming affection between her and Enid for just a little longer.
She took a moment to look at herself again in the mirror, waiting for the swelling to go down. Her pupils were dilated, her normally immaculate bangs were disheveled, and her corpse-like complexion carried a tinge of color, of life. She really, really liked Enid, even if it had only been a month (and 13 days) since they started dating. Having to walk away from her touch was a torture. She had never thought she would actually feel this way about someone, never imagined wanting a relationship, never imagined falling into the Addams curse, yet here she was, looking like a flushed fool.
“Do you think that Wednesday only agreed to date me because she pities me?”
Enid paced in circles in Yoko’s room, hands clenching and un-clenching, spiraling.
Yoko lowered her sunglasses, giving her a look that clearly said, are you kidding me?
Enid glared at her, huffed, and continued stomping in circles.
“I’m serious! She holds my hands for a minute, then stands five feet away from me for the rest of the day. She kisses me, then comes up with a silly excuse and walks away. She’s hot and cold, and I don’t know what to do!”
“Are you sure she’s not just playing hard to get?” Yoko asked.
“Why would she do that? We’re already together! And I tell her all the time how much I l-like her,” Enid said, her ears flushing bright red as she finished the last sentence.
“Okay, don’t panic,” Yoko said, reaching out to stop Enid from wearing a hole in her room with her werewolf power walk. “Maybe she’s scared of intimacy? Besides her family, you’re the only one she has ever allowed to touch her, right? This is a whole new territory for her.”
“I thought about that too. But when she kisses me, she’s very—” Enid mumbled. “She knows what she’s doing, that’s all I’d say.”
“You just have to be more patient. Go at her pace.”
“But—”
“Look, I don’t know what Wednesday Addams is thinking. I mean, the girl is weird as hell. But she’s your weird girl! She looks at you like she’s willing to kill everyone in Nevermore for you. She recites poems to you every day. She even learned a Taylor Swift song for you with her big violin.”
“It’s a cello.”
“Tomato, potato,” Yoko waved it off. “All I’m saying is this girl is crazy for you. Anyone can see that. Quit doubting yourself.”
Enid took a deep breath, remembering the songs Wednesday had played for her on their one-month dating anniversary. It was so beautiful. Wednesday had sat on the roof, bathed in the warm, golden glow of the setting sun, her fingers playing the cello with flawless precision, her warm brown eyes never wavering from Enid. This macabre-loving, grave-digging goth girl truly had a heart for her.
“How come you’re so wise?”
“Well, when you repeat high school for 20 years, you’re bound to pick up a thing or two.”
“You have failed me.”
Frantic gestures.
“No excuses. After I went through the trouble to send you home in secret, you come back empty-handed. No pills, no cream.”
More gestures, knocking on the desk.
“Save it. You’re coming with me to forage some umbra mushrooms. You better redeem yourself.”
Knuckles crouched in defeat.
Wednesday donned her coat. The amputated hand hopped off the desk to hurry after her, he could not afford to anger her further.
As they walked to the door, it opened.
“Oh hey, Thing! You’re back! Did you have a fun adventure?” Here came her blonde-haired paramour with a megawatt smile, the ache to her heart, and her skin.
Thing waved.
“Are you two going to the dining hall?”
“No, out.” Wednesday shot Thing a glare, forbidding him from signing anything more.
Not bothered by her girlfriend’s usual cold demeanor and suspicious activities, Enid said, “Oh, I’ll grab some dinner after I change. Want me to bring you a plate?”
“No need. I am not hungry.”
Wednesday was anxious to leave before sundown. As she turned, Enid reached out and held her hand.
Wednesday looked down at Enid’s vibrantly painted nails, so close to her skin. She tucked her hand out of Enid’s grip, but stood in place.
“I was just thinking, we can watch a movie when you come back?” Enid asked, her clear blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“That would be agreeable.” Feeling guilty for running off yesterday, Wednesday agreed. And who was she to deny her paramour’s innocent request, to sit up straight and watch moving pictures, keeping respectful space between them?
Wednesday’s eyes lingered on her look today: glittered cerulean eye-shadow, a different lipstick in bubblegum pink, shiny and luscious. Enid parted her lips and leaned closer.
Wednesday shut her eyes, leaned forward to press a quick kiss on the edge of her jaw, and then rushed out of the room.
“Not. A. Word.”
Thing snickered as much as a hand could.
When they returned later that evening, Wednesday’s boots and Thing were caked with mud. Wednesday rubbed her shoes on the welcome mat outside the room, while Thing shook himself like a dog.
Enid ushered Wednesday to the shower and helped Thing bathe, not before making him promise to stay out of the room for the night.
“…Where is your usual nightwear?”
When Wednesday returned from her shower, she wore a long-sleeved black pajamas set dotted with white. Enid, in contrast, wore a hot pink silk sleeveless top with spaghetti straps and matching short shorts trimmed with lace. Her arms and legs were bare, which was already far more skin than Wednesday was equipped to process.
“They’re all in the laundry basket,” Enid said, trying to sound nonchalant. Despite Yoko telling her to be patient, she wanted to do her own method instead. She had chosen her most seductive sleepwear, hoping Wednesday wouldn’t be able to keep her hands to herself. Patience had never been her forte, after all.
Wednesday frowned, hard. She just wanted a night with Enid without an allergy flare-up for once. “Why do you still have your makeup on?”
“…Because I want to look cute?”
Wednesday shook her head lightly. “You’re breathtaking either way. But I would prefer the chemicals not damage your skin through the night, if possible.”
Enid swooned at her girlfriend’s sweet words and giddily headed to the bathroom to take it off. Wednesday noticed the word “PEACH” printed in bold letters across the back of her shorts.
They took their usual places, side by side on Wednesday’s bed. Wednesday finished the mac and cheese Enid had heated up, watching as her paramour put on a horror movie on her laptop.
Half an hour into the movie, Enid began to fidget. She tried to curl her arms around Wednesday, but Wednesday reacted quickly, like she anticipated it, placing Enid’s hand back on her own thigh and firmly holding it there, carefully avoiding touching her nails.
OK, not a complete failure. Enid exhaled, looking down at their intertwined hands.
Then she rested her head on Wednesday’s shoulder, her colorful dyed ends spilling over her back, against the dark braids.
“Enid,” Wednesday warned, shimmering away slightly, “it’s bad for your posture.”
Enid groaned and sat back up.
Another thirty minutes in, Enid was feeling restless. She kept stealing glances at Wednesday, subtly shifting to reveal a little more skin, but her girlfriend gave no reaction whatsoever. Enid sighed, reached over for a glass of water on the nightstand, somehow lost her balance, and ended up in her girlfriend’s lap. Unsure what to do, she lifted her right leg and straddled Wednesday.
Wednesday could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears, betraying her composure at the sudden closeness.
“Hey,” Enid said, feeling brave, settling herself on top of Wednesday and putting her hands on her shoulders.
“Hi,” Wednesday whispered, not knowing where to place her own hands, tightening her grip on the bed sheet.
Enid continued playing with her collar wordlessly, waiting for Wednesday to look at her.
With the laptop low light glowing from behind, Enid looked like a luminescent angel wearing her halo. Her face, free of makeup, revealed every curve, every subtle lines, every soft detail of her features. Wednesday wasn’t lying earlier. Her paramour was indeed breathtaking. And now, with no makeup to be triggered, Wednesday could indulge a little.
Wednesday kissed her firmly on the lips. Enid parted her mouth easily, inviting her in. Wednesday breathed deeply as she leaned even closer, tactfully placing her right hand on her neck, higher than the pink top and below her dyed hair tips. Her thumb gently rubs her paramour's chin.
Her kisses trailed lower, moving in a straight line. She lingered a moment longer at the middle of Enid’s neck. Her idling left hand itched to do more, if only she could touch the bare skin beneath the eye-assaulting silk sleepwear. Just as her hand reached under the hem of the top toward the supple skin, she pulled it back as if she had touched hot metal, breaking away from the kiss.
“It’s late! We should retire to bed. Our own beds.” She pressed her back against the wall, putting space between herself and Enid.
Enid’s heart sank. “What’s the matter? Why did you stop?”
“I—” She couldn’t think of anything believable. Her mind went blank.
Wednesday could only stare, dumbfounded and frozen, as her paramour seemed to fall apart before her eyes.
“Don’t… I don’t want to hear it.” Enid blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. She got up from Wednesday’s gray bed and sank into her own pink one, pulling the blankets around herself, over her head.
Wednesday sighed deeply, shoulders slumping as she stared at the trembling pile of blankets. She closed the laptop, which was still playing the movie. And the room was enveloped in darkness.
That night, the index finger on her left hand felt raw and feverish, pulsing like a curse.
Three days of no talking. No contact. No allergic incidents.
She missed Enid, the way a fungus misses the damp. She even missed her allergy reactions, hot, thrumming, and persistent, vivid and lively like Enid herself.
Was that what love felt like? Lucifer, she was turning into her father.
At lunch, their eyes met across the link. Enid held her gaze, waiting for Wednesday to say something, anything. But Wednesday looked away first. Feeling dejected, she turned and walked back to their silent dorm.
Without a paramour to occupy her time and mind, she spent all her free time to recreate the umbra mushroom pills in the lab with Thing. She made a batch. Failed. Went foraging. Failed again. Repeated the process several times until, finally, she had five greenish-brown pellets resting in her palm.
“The texture appears consistent with the original compound,” she murmured, frowning. “But the pigmentation is not quite right. Are you certain we used the correct formula?”
Thing shrugged.
“Very well,” Wednesday said. “The only way to verify its efficacy is through direct experimentation. After all, progress demands a few potential fatalities.”
She popped two into her mouth and swallowed without hesitation.
They waited, but nothing happened. Wednesday glanced at Thing, who pointed toward Enid’s side of the room and tapped.
“I suppose a little exposure therapy might help. Fetch something of hers. Not too muted, not too bright.”
The appendage crawled into Enid’s drawer under the bed and limped back, dragging a lavender colored garment between its ring finger and pinky.
It was a skimpy little piece of underwear.
Wednesday’s eyes went wide. “Why did you bring me this? Get me a sock or something!”
Thing dropped it onto the floor in the middle of the room and hurriedly scuttled away, avoiding her glare.
“I refuse to violate her privacy. Put it back!” Her cheeks betrayed her composure, warming unexpectedly.
Abruptly, the door creaked open. With a jolt of dread, Wednesday palmed the purple undergarment and hid them behind her back, but not before Enid saw her.
“Wednesday… why do you have my panties?”
So her supposedly cold and frigid girlfriend was just caught red-handed with her saved-for-date-night lingerie.
Was Wednesday secretly… freaky?
“It is not what you think.” Wednesday frantically scanned the room for Thing. That meddling little shit!
“Then tell me what I’m supposed to think!” Enid stomped forward, claws sharp, forcing Wednesday further back into the room.
Wednesday tried to speak, but a searing heat spread across her palm. She let out a stifled gasp and dropped the garment. She held up her hand, angrily red, throbbing, a burning testament to her predicament.
“Oh my god, Wednesday! What happened?” All Enid’s anger seemed to evaporate, leaving only concern as she gently cupped Wednesday’s reddened palm around her hands.
Wednesday shut her eyes, feeling utterly out of control. “I… I am allergic to color.”
“Seriously? I thought it was just one of your jokes.”
Wednesday shook her head. “I do not joke. I am highly allergic to various coloring agents found in clothing, food, cosmetics and other manufactured products. Physical contact can trigger acute inflammation, intense redness, swelling, and relentless itching. The reaction can escalate rapidly if not properly managed.”
“What should we do? Do you have any medicine?” Enid’s eyes began to water.
“I do,” Wednesday said, stepping into the bathroom. She retrieved her stashed cream and scraped the last bit from the bottom of the bottle. “But… not anymore.”
Fortunately, it was enough to bring the swelling down.
They sat on Wednesday’s bed. Enid raised her arms, wanting to comfort her girlfriend, but lowered them again, afraid of triggering another reaction. “So that’s why you kept running away… I was setting you off all the time. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? I could’ve just changed my clothes or—”
“Enid,” Wednesday’s brown eyes locked onto the blonde’s, firm and unwavering. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me. You are a symphony of color, a prism spilling light in every direction, untamed and exquisite. Your radiance is uniquely yours. Do not dim it for anyone.”
Enid could have melted into a puddle right there, but she pressed on. “Yes, but I could wear something less… triggering. You’re not allergic to all colors, right?”
“It is true.” Wednesday pulled a pamphlet from her drawer and handed it to Enid. “I can tolerate more muted, washed-out, or darkened colors, like beige, pastel, navy, olive, burgundy, and so on.”
Enid flipped through the pamphlet, titled “A Guide to Not Killing Me: Color Edition”. Inside was a long list of chemicals and materials to avoid.
It was daunting. The thought of giving up all the pretty clothes and pricey cosmetics she had collected over the years for her signature style was heartbreaking. But Wednesday mattered more than any material thing. It was a small price to pay to be with someone as loving, trusting, and beautifully fragile as Wednesday Addams.
“I can do it! I’ll get rid of anything that could harm you.”
“Enid—”
“Being with you is like living in a YA novel. I love all the things we did together. If something I own keeps you from being with me, then I don’t need it. I just need you.”
Wednesday inhaled deeply, “Very well, then. I will compensate for your loss. Money is not an issue.”
Enid chuckled. Her girlfriend was such a privileged trust fund baby.
“I did not expect our relationship to escalate so quickly. It was my oversight not to ration my medication carefully,” Wednesday admitted, her gaze lowering, “I… also enjoyed the things we did together.”
“You do?” Enid’s bright blue eyes shone. If she were in her wolf form right now, she would be wagging her tail.
Wednesday nodded, “I will swallow my pride and inform my family about the nature of our relationship and request a stronger dosage.”
“Oh em gee! You’re telling your parents about us!” Enid couldn’t contain herself. She leaned in toward Wednesday, but the dark haired girl pulled away.
“Right, right. Business first.” Enid let out a breathy laugh. “So… what is on me that could trigger you?”
“To begin with, your dyed hair,” Wednesday explained. “You can still dye your hair with smaller eco-friendly brands. They use natural ingredients. The products are not as permanent and smell odd when applied, but you will get to maintain your distinct look.”
Enid took a dark purple scrunchie off her wrist and tied her hair into a short ponytail.
“That’ll do for now. What’s next?” She winked at Wednesday, grinning and letting her canine fangs peek out.
Wednesday gulped. “Your makeup.”
Enid dug through her unorganized vanity drawer, pulling out every product. From the collection, Wednesday selected some pastel and earth-toned eye-shadows, some black and colored eyeliners, a few darker lip shades, all the colorless lip balms, and surprisingly, a rose pink lipstick.
Wednesday opened the cap and sniffed. “This is a safe brand.”
“That’s awesome! It’s my favorite.”
“You have a lot of favorites,” Wednesday said, rolling her eyes at the scattered makeup rolling across the desk.
“And you’re the favorite of all my favorites.” Enid nudged Wednesday gently with the toe of her boot.
While Enid washed off her makeup, Wednesday arranged the non-triggering nail polishes by color and brand, and lined them up neatly. She then helped Enid to remove the polish from her nails, leaving only the black-painted ring fingers on both hands.
“I do appreciate you painting them black. It suits you,” Wednesday said, keeping her focus on the task at hand.
“I wanted something that reminds me of you all the time.” Enid pressed a soft kiss to the inside of the palm that had been swollen earlier.
Wednesday’s cheeks warmed. “Stay still. I don’t want to spill it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Enid said, smiling.
They moved on to Enid’s wardrobe, sorting everything into a safe pile and a discard pile. Wednesday pointed at one of the skirts, studying it intently. “The color is clearly excessive,” she mused, “but it’s short enough that I wouldn’t come into contact with it.”
Enid took it off the rack and tossed it into the discard pile. “Nope! I don’t ever want you to hesitate to touch me. You should feel completely comfortable around me at all times.”
Soon, the racks were empty, and the floor was covered in two uneven piles of clothes. The two of them stood in the middle, facing each other.
Without a word, Enid pulled her T-shirt over her head and reached for a white one patterned with tiny pale-pink and soft-orange hearts.
Wednesday caught a fleeting glimpse of the white bra beneath, barely covering Enid’s modest bosoms, and the faint scars on her waist, marks of triumph from her battle with the Hyde. A rush of warmth crept up her neck. She promptly filed the image away in the private archives of her mind for later contemplation.
When Wednesday was still savoring the image in her head, Enid swapped her pants for a pair of baby-blue shorts from the safe pile.
“Hey,” Enid stepped closer to her girlfriend, her hands tentatively resting on Wednesday’s arm. “I’m all decontaminated now, ain’t I?”
“One would assume so.” Being the shorter of the two, Wednesday looked up from beneath her bangs.
Enid took Wednesday’s hands and placed them on her own waist, then looped her arms around Wednesday’s shoulders, chest to chest. “Sooo, one would be able to touch me as much as she wants?”
“One might.” Wednesday closed her eyes and leaned in, pressing her face against Enid’s cheek.
“Wednesday, no more teasing,” Enid whispered, almost pleading.
“Bold of you to make demands.” Wednesday caught Enid’s jaw between her fingers, her lips brushing close before her tongue slipped out, tasting the warmth of Enid’s breath.
“I got rid of half of my things for my girlfriend,” Enid panted, breathless as Wednesday’s kisses and playful nibbles traced her neck. “I deserve some treats.”
“And treats you shall have,” Wednesday murmured between kisses, slipping her hands beneath the allergy-safe white top, feeling the fervor of Enid’s all-natural skin.
Wednesday Addams had long learned to keep her allergy under control. Love, however, was the most persistent irritant of all.
For some reason, Enid thought one of the best precautions was to strip down to her underwear every time she stepped into their room. It had caused more than two embarrassing incidents. Wednesday had to reassure her paramour that her soft pink pajamas were perfectly safe to keep on.
Poor Thing was scarred.