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Wednesday Addams didn’t believe in parties.
Parties were for people who needed noise to drown out their own thoughts. For people who confused attention with affection. For people who thought a plastic cup full of something neon and flammable counted as a personality.
Nevermore Academy, unfortunately, was full of people.
Still, even Wednesday had to admit this one was… impressively stupid.
A secret party. In the woods. At night. Organized by Yoko Tanaka, who had the quiet, vampire calm smile of someone who had already planned three different exit routes and one plausible alibi.
Everyone was going.
Everyone.
Which meant it was either going to be painfully boring… or a crime scene.
Wednesday adjusted the collar of her black jacket and watched the treeline from the edge of the clearing. Paper lanterns hung from branches like glowing organs. Someone had dragged speakers out here and was committing musical assault against nature. There was a bonfire big enough to cremate a small horse. And the smell.
Alcohol. Sweat. Cheap cologne. Sweet smoke.
She should’ve left.
Instead, she stayed.
Because Enid Sinclair was here.
Enid bright, loud, warm Enid was currently laughing too hard at something Bruno said, her head tipped back, her hair catching the lantern light like a warning sign.
Wednesday’s jaw tightened.
Bruno was new. Or at least newly visible. He had the smug confidence of someone who’d never been haunted by a prophetic vision or an ancestral curse. Tall, broad-shouldered, all charming grin and lazy eyes.
He leaned in closer to Enid. Enid swatted him with her cup, giggling.
Wednesday didn’t move.
She told herself she didn’t care.
She told herself Enid could flirt with whoever she wanted. Wednesday wasn’t a jealous person. Jealousy was messy. It was needy. It was an emotion people used to excuse bad behavior.
Wednesday Addams did not do needy.
She simply… observed.
Like a scientist.
A scientist who wanted to set Bruno on fire.
Across the clearing, Bianca Barclay was holding court like she owned the woods. Divina and Agnes hovered near her, drinking and talking too fast. Ajax Petropolus kept pushing his hair back like he was afraid it might betray him. Eugene Otinger had somehow obtained a tray of suspicious-looking brownies and was loudly announcing they were “definitely not poisoned,” which meant they absolutely were.
Yoko drifted through it all like a ghost with a clipboard.
Wednesday spotted her and raised a brow.
Yoko glided over. “You came.”
“I like to witness disasters firsthand,” Wednesday said.
Yoko’s mouth quirked. “Enid told me you wouldn’t.”
“Enid is an optimist. It’s one of her flaws.”
Yoko glanced toward Enid, then back at Wednesday. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where you pretend you’re above something while looking like you want to murder it.”
Wednesday’s expression didn’t change. “I always want to murder something.”
“Fair.” Yoko’s eyes flicked again. “Still. The vibe between you and Enid lately has been… off.”
Wednesday kept her gaze forward. “The vibe is irrelevant.”
Yoko hummed, unconvinced. “Sure.”
Wednesday didn’t answer.
Because Enid looked over.
Their eyes met across the firelight and bodies and noise.
Enid’s smile faltered, just for a second, like she’d forgotten how to wear it.
Then Bruno said something in her ear, and she laughed again.
Wednesday’s stomach did a slow, ugly twist.
She hated her stomach.
It had no discipline.
Someone shoved a cup into Wednesday’s hand. It smelled like battery acid and regret.
“Drink!” Divina shouted like it was a commandment.
Wednesday looked down at the cup. “What is this?”
“Jungle juice!” Agnes yelled. “It’s like, twelve different things!”
“That explains the stench of poor life choices.”
Bianca appeared at Wednesday’s shoulder, eyes glittering. “Addams. Didn’t peg you as the party type.”
“I’m not,” Wednesday said. “I’m the party autopsy type.”
Bianca smirked. “Then at least drink. It’ll make the night less insufferable.”
Wednesday considered refusing out of principle.
Then she saw Enid’s hand on Bruno’s arm.
So Wednesday lifted the cup and drank.
It burned on the way down like it was trying to cauterize her feelings.
Good.
She drank again.
Better.
The music got louder. Or maybe her head got fuzzier.
People danced like they were being possessed by mediocre demons. Someone had a bottle of something clear and dangerous. Yoko was laughing with Divina, which was unsettling in a very specific way. Eugene was attempting to roast a marshmallow directly in the bonfire and yelling, “SCIENCE!”
Wednesday stayed near the edge, sipping slowly, watching everything.
Watching Enid.
Enid was… drunk.
Not a little drunk. Not tipsy. Enid was the kind of drunk where her emotions became a fireworks display and her volume had no ceiling.
She danced with Agnes. She hugged Ajax. She told Bianca she was “like, terrifyingly hot but also super stressful.” Bianca looked both offended and pleased.
Then Enid ended up back by Bruno, who handed her another drink.
Enid took it without thinking.
Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her cup.
Enid stumbled a little, giggled, and leaned into Bruno’s side like it was natural.
Something sharp went through Wednesday’s chest.
Like a tiny knife.
Which was ridiculous. Tiny knives were her favorite.
Still.
Wednesday started walking toward them before she could talk herself out of it.
Enid saw her approach and brightened. “Wensday!” she slurred she always said it wrong when she was happy, and somehow it made Wednesday want to both correct her and never correct her again.
“It’s Wednesday,” Wednesday said.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Enid squinted at her like Wednesday was a tricky math problem. “You look… very black.”
“I am wearing black,” Wednesday said flatly. “It’s not a surprise.”
Bruno grinned at Wednesday like he thought they were in the same social species. “Hey, Addams.”
Wednesday looked at him like he was a bug she might pin to a board later.
Then she looked back at Enid’s cup.
Enid’s drink was almost gone.
Wednesday heard herself speak before she could stop it.
“Enid,” she said, voice calm as a grave. “Isn’t it time to stop drinking?”
Enid blinked. Then laughed. “No! Fuck no. I can go further.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not a flex.”
Enid leaned closer, breath sweet and sharp. “I’m with Bruno. We’re drinking together.”
Bruno’s hand slipped to Enid’s waist.
Wednesday’s vision went very, very clear.
“I see,” she said.
Enid smiled in a way that made Wednesday feel suddenly cold. “Yeah. You see.”
Wednesday’s tongue felt like a blade behind her teeth.
She could say something reasonable. Something controlled.
Instead, she said, “Try not to choke on your own poor judgment.”
Enid’s smile flickered.
Bruno raised his brows. “Jesus. You always like this?”
Wednesday looked at him. “Yes.”
Enid huffed. “Wednesday, don’t be a dick.”
Wednesday’s mouth twisted. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Enid stiffened. “I’m not being an idiot. I’m having fun.”
“I’ve noticed,” Wednesday said, eyes cutting to Bruno’s hand. “You seem very… occupied.”
Enid followed her gaze and then, stubbornly, leaned even more into Bruno like she was proving a point. “Maybe I like being occupied.”
Wednesday’s stomach clenched again.
The jungle juice sloshed in her veins like gasoline.
“I should’ve expected this,” Wednesday said, voice too sharp. “You can’t stand being alone with yourself for five minutes.”
Enid’s face flushed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need constant attention,” Wednesday said. “If you’re not collecting friends like stickers, you’re collecting boys.”
Bruno let out a low whistle. “Wow.”
Enid stared at Wednesday, eyes wide and suddenly watery. “Boys? Seriously? That’s what you think I’m doing?”
Wednesday’s throat felt tight.
She could stop. She could back down.
But she didn’t.
Not yet.
“You’re loud,” Wednesday said, every word deliberate. “You’re needy. And now you’re drunk in the woods with someone who would flirt with a headstone if it complimented him.”
Bruno’s grin fell. “Hey—”
Enid’s voice cracked. “Fuck you, Wednesday.”
The clearing seemed to tilt.
People nearby went quiet, sensing drama like sharks scenting blood.
Enid swallowed hard, eyes shining. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to— to judge me like you’re above everything, like you’re not— like you’re not fucking lonely.”
Wednesday’s heart punched once, hard.
Enid shook her head like she couldn’t believe this was happening. “I tried. Okay? I tried to give you space, because you always want space. But then you act like I’m betraying you for having a life.”
Wednesday’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Enid wiped her face with the back of her hand, furious at the tears she didn’t want. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done.”
Then she turned and ran.
Straight into the dark between the trees, lantern light dying behind her.
A beat of silence.
Somewhere, someone coughed awkwardly.
Eugene whispered, “Oh shit.”
Wednesday stood there with her cup in her hand like she’d forgotten how to use it.
Bruno stared after Enid, then looked at Wednesday, jaw tight. “What the hell is your problem?”
Wednesday’s eyes cut to him. “You are.”
He scoffed. “Right. Because I’m the one who made her cry.”
Wednesday’s fingers curled around the cup hard enough to crack the plastic.
Bianca stepped closer, expression unreadable. “You really went for the throat.”
“I do that,” Wednesday said.
Bianca’s gaze softened a fraction. “You look like you regret it.”
“I don’t,” Wednesday lied.
Yoko appeared beside Wednesday like she’d been summoned by guilt. Her eyes were sharp. “You do,” she said.
Wednesday’s jaw clenched. “Enid is drunk. She’ll get over it.”
Yoko’s stare didn’t blink. “She won’t.”
Wednesday’s chest felt like someone had put a stone inside it.
Yoko leaned in slightly, voice lower. “Go after her.”
Wednesday didn’t move.
Yoko’s expression turned dangerous in its own quiet way. “Wednesday.”
“What,” Wednesday snapped.
Yoko’s lips pressed together. “You’re not the only monster here.”
Wednesday stared at her.
Yoko nodded toward the woods. “This party was secret for a reason. People are wasted. The forest isn’t safe at night. If Enid’s out there alone and crying, she’s a glowing fucking target.”
The jungle juice in Wednesday’s blood suddenly felt cold.
She set her cup down like it had betrayed her.
Then she walked.
Not fast. Not panicked.
But her steps were long and sure, cutting through the trees like she owned the dark.
Behind her, Yoko called, “Bring her back alive!”
Wednesday didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
The woods swallowed sound.
The party noise faded behind her, replaced by crunching leaves and distant water and the occasional snap of a branch that could’ve been a squirrel.
Or something else.
Nevermore’s forest had teeth.
Wednesday moved through it like she knew where they were.
Because she did.
She’d mapped this area out weeks ago, mostly out of habit and partially because she enjoyed knowing exactly where bodies could be hidden.
A sharp laugh escaped her at the thought, and it sounded wrong in the dark.
She followed the faint signs of passage: a scuffed patch of dirt, a snapped twig, the ghost of strawberry shampoo on the air.
Enid’s scent.
Warm. Sweet. Alive.
It made Wednesday’s throat tighten again.
“Enid,” Wednesday called, voice cutting through the trees.
No answer.
She walked farther.
The ground dipped, and the air cooled.
Then she heard it.
A choked sob.
Wednesday’s steps slowed.
She found the lake.
A dark, glassy stretch of water nestled between trees. The moon sat on its surface like a pale coin. Mist curled low, crawling.
Enid sat at the edge, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders shaking.
Her shoes were kicked off. One sock was half off like she’d fought it and lost. Her hair was a mess. Her makeup had smudged.
She looked small.
Wednesday hated it.
Not because Enid looked weak.
Because it made Wednesday feel something dangerous.
Something soft.
Wednesday approached quietly and sat beside her, leaving a careful distance like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be close.
Enid didn’t look at her.
Enid’s voice came out rough. “Go away.”
“No,” Wednesday said.
Enid let out a broken laugh that turned into a sob. “Seriously. Fuck off.”
Wednesday stared at the lake. “I deserve that.”
Enid’s head snapped toward her, eyes blazing through tears. “Yeah. You do.”
Wednesday’s fingers flexed on her knee. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not stupid,” Enid hissed.
Wednesday looked at her then. Really looked.
Enid’s eyes were red. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked furious and hurt and heartbreakingly alive.
Wednesday’s chest ached.
“I didn’t come to argue,” Wednesday said.
Enid wiped her face hard. “Then why the hell are you here?”
Wednesday swallowed.
Apologies weren’t hard because they were difficult.
They were hard because they were honest.
“I said cruel things,” Wednesday admitted.
Enid scoffed. “You always say cruel things.”
Wednesday’s gaze didn’t flinch. “Not like that.”
Enid’s mouth trembled. “You called me needy.”
Wednesday’s voice dropped. “You’re not needy.”
Enid laughed bitterly. “You literally said I can’t be alone with myself.”
Wednesday’s jaw tightened. “I was trying to hurt you.”
Enid stared like that confession hit her harder than the insult. “Why would you do that?”
Wednesday’s hands curled into fists, then forced themselves open. “Because you were laughing with him.”
Enid blinked. “With Bruno?”
Wednesday nodded once.
Enid’s brows pulled together in confusion and disbelief. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Wednesday’s throat tightened again.
In the dark, with the lake breathing beside them, she felt too exposed.
Still, she forced the words out.
“I’m jealous,” Wednesday said.
Enid went still.
Even the sobbing stopped, like her body forgot what it was doing.
Then she let out a shaky laugh. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not,” Wednesday said quietly.
Enid stared at her. “You don’t get jealous.”
Wednesday’s lips pressed together. “Apparently I do.”
Enid’s eyes narrowed. “Of Bruno.”
Wednesday’s gaze flicked away for a second like the name tasted bad. “Yes.”
Enid shook her head. “Why? I’m not— I’m not with him.”
Wednesday’s heart stuttered.
She forced her face to stay blank. “You said you were drinking together. You’ve been… distant. Busy.”
Enid’s expression softened slightly, but the hurt still lived there. “I’ve been trying to not suffocate you, Wednesday.”
Wednesday’s eyes snapped back to her.
Enid gestured wildly, voice rising. “Every time I get too close, you push. Every time I ask what you’re thinking, you shut down. So yeah, I hung out with Bruno because it was easy. Because he laughs and flirts and doesn’t make me feel like I’m a fucking burden.”
The words punched Wednesday hard.
Enid’s eyes filled again. “But I didn’t want him. I wanted you to notice me.”
Wednesday went very still.
The lake mist curled around them like it was listening.
Enid’s voice cracked. “And you did. You noticed me. And then you gutted me.”
Wednesday’s fingers trembled slightly. She hated it. She kept them still by digging them into her palm.
“I’m sorry,” Wednesday said.
Enid huffed. “You already said that.”
Wednesday’s gaze held hers. “I’m sorry that I’m jealous.”
Enid’s breath hitched.
Wednesday continued, voice quieter, more dangerous in its honesty. “I’m sorry I don’t know how to… do this. Whatever this is.”
Enid blinked tears off her lashes. “Do what.”
Wednesday’s jaw clenched, then released.
“Care,” Wednesday said.
Enid stared.
Wednesday’s voice went flatter, like she was trying to armor herself. “You’re important to me.”
Enid let out a disbelieving laugh. “You have a weird way of showing it.”
“I know,” Wednesday said.
Enid’s shoulders slumped, exhausted. “Why are you jealous, Wednesday? What the fuck is going on in that murder-brain of yours?”
Wednesday looked at the water again, because it was easier than looking at Enid when she said this.
“Because when you’re with him,” Wednesday said, “you look happy. And when you’re happy, you forget about me.”
Enid’s breath caught.
Wednesday’s voice was low now, almost raw. “And I—” She stopped, like the words were a cliff edge.
Enid whispered, “And you what.”
Wednesday’s throat worked.
Then she said it anyway, because she’d already come this far and the night was already ruined.
“I don’t want you to forget me,” Wednesday said.
Silence.
Then Enid’s voice, soft and stunned. “Wednesday…”
Wednesday’s jaw clenched. “Don’t make it worse.”
Enid scooted a little closer, carefully. Like she was approaching a wild animal that might bolt.
“You’re jealous because you… what?” Enid asked, voice trembling. “Because you like me?”
Wednesday’s eyes snapped to her.
Enid’s face was open, vulnerable, terrified of the answer.
Wednesday’s chest hurt so badly she almost wished for a stabbing instead. Stabbings were cleaner.
She forced the truth out like pulling glass from her throat.
“Yes,” Wednesday said. “I like you.”
Enid froze.
Then she whispered, “Like… like-like?”
Wednesday glared. “Don’t infantilize it.”
Enid’s lips parted, a broken laugh mixing with a sob. “Oh my god.”
Wednesday’s expression tightened. “If you’re going to mock me, do it quickly.”
Enid shook her head fast. “I’m not mocking you. I just—” She wiped her face again. “You’re saying you like me and you’re just sitting there like you’re discussing the weather.”
“I’m trying not to panic,” Wednesday said.
Enid stared. “You panic?”
Wednesday’s gaze was sharp. “Don’t push your luck.”
Enid let out a breath, long and shaky, and for a moment she looked almost… relieved.
Then her face hardened again. “So why did you say all that shit to me?”
Wednesday swallowed. “Because I didn’t know how to ask you to stay.”
Enid’s eyes widened.
Wednesday’s voice went quieter. “And because I didn’t want you to see how much it mattered.”
Enid stared at her like she was seeing something new.
“Wednesday,” Enid whispered, “you could’ve just… told me.”
Wednesday’s mouth twisted. “I’m not good at telling.”
Enid’s laugh came out watery. “No shit.”
They sat there, the night pressing in, the lake reflecting the moon like an unblinking eye.
Then something snapped in the trees behind them.
Enid flinched hard. “What was that?”
Wednesday’s head turned slightly. She listened.
Another crack. Closer.
Her body went instantly alert, sober in the way fear sobers you.
Enid whispered, “Wednesday…?”
Wednesday stood smoothly, eyes scanning the dark. “Stay behind me.”
Enid blinked. “Excuse me? I’m a werewolf.”
“You’re a werewolf who is drunk,” Wednesday said. “That’s like giving a chainsaw to a toddler.”
“Shut up,” Enid hissed, but she still shifted closer behind Wednesday.
The mist over the lake thickened.
A shape moved between the trees.
Not human.
Too tall. Too wrong.
Wednesday’s pulse jumped once.
Enid’s voice went small. “Is that—”
“Something,” Wednesday said.
The thing stepped into lanternless moonlight.
It looked like a deer.
If a deer had too many joints and eyes that were just a little too intelligent.
Enid made a strangled noise. “What the actual fuck is that.”
Wednesday’s lips curved faintly. “A reason this party was a terrible idea.”
The creature tilted its head.
Then it lunged.
Enid yelped. Wednesday shoved Enid back, snatched a heavy rock from the ground, and swung.
The rock connected with a wet crack.
The creature screeched and stumbled, claws scraping dirt.
Enid snarled, the sound sharp and feral, and for a second her eyes flashed gold.
Then she wobbled.
“Goddamn it,” Wednesday muttered.
The creature lunged again.
Wednesday grabbed Enid’s wrist. “Run.”
They ran.
Enid stumbled, half laughing, half sobbing, adrenaline and alcohol making her a chaotic mess. “This is so fucking insane!”
“Focus,” Wednesday snapped, dragging her around a tree.
The creature crashed behind them, snapping branches.
Enid panted, “Why does this always happen when we’re together?”
Wednesday didn’t look back. “Because you attract trouble.”
Enid barked a laugh. “Me? You’re literally a walking curse.”
They burst through a thicker patch of trees and finally saw a flicker of bonfire light ahead.
Voices. Music.
Safety, or at least witnesses.
Enid screamed, “HELP, WE’RE BEING CHASED BY A WEIRDO DEER!”
The party noise stuttered as heads turned.
Bianca’s voice cut through the chaos. “What?”
Yoko’s eyes widened as she spotted them. “Wednesday—”
The creature charged into the edge of the clearing.
Screams erupted.
Someone threw a bottle. It shattered uselessly.
Eugene shouted, “I HAVE A FLAMETHROWER!” which was probably a lie but also terrifying.
Wednesday shoved Enid behind her again without thinking.
Enid grabbed Wednesday’s sleeve, voice shaking. “Wednesday, don’t—”
“Stay,” Wednesday ordered.
The creature crouched, ready to spring.
Bianca stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly with siren power. “Everybody back!”
Her voice rippled through the clearing like a command wrapped in velvet.
The creature hesitated, muscles trembling.
Yoko appeared beside Wednesday, calm as death. “What is that?”
Wednesday’s eyes stayed locked on it. “A problem.”
Enid, behind Wednesday, whispered, “I hate this so much.”
Wednesday whispered back, “I know.”
The creature hissed, then bolted into the trees like it had decided this crowd was too much effort.
For a beat, everyone just stood there, panting.
Bianca pointed at Wednesday. “Why does shit like this follow you?”
Wednesday brushed dirt off her sleeve. “It’s a gift.”
Yoko’s gaze slid to Enid, who was still gripping Wednesday’s sleeve like she’d forget how to stand otherwise. “You okay?”
Enid nodded too fast. “Yep! Totally! I almost died! Super normal!”
Yoko’s eyes narrowed at Wednesday. “You found her.”
Wednesday’s face stayed blank. “Yes.”
Yoko’s look said she knew exactly what had happened anyway.
She leaned in, voice low so only Wednesday could hear. “Talk to her. For real. Before you fuck it up again.”
Wednesday didn’t answer.
Because Enid tugged her sleeve again, softer this time.
“Wednesday,” Enid said, voice quiet.
Wednesday turned toward her.
Enid’s eyes were still wet. Still hurt. But there was something else now too.
Hope, dangerous and bright.
Enid swallowed. “Can we… can we go somewhere not full of drunk idiots and murder-deer?”
Wednesday stared at her.
Then nodded once. “Yes.”
Enid exhaled shakily.
They walked away from the bonfire, away from the noise, until the party became a dull roar behind them instead of a living thing.
They stopped under a tree where lantern light reached only faintly.
Enid leaned against the trunk, breathing hard, then laughed once, broken and tired. “That was fucking insane.”
Wednesday’s mouth twitched. “You already said that.”
Enid wiped her face again. “Okay so… you like me.”
Wednesday’s gaze stayed steady. “Yes.”
Enid stared like she was trying to memorize Wednesday’s face. “And you were jealous.”
Wednesday’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
Enid let out a breath. “I’m so mad at you.”
Wednesday nodded. “You should be.”
Enid’s laugh came out watery again. “And I’m also…” She hesitated. “I’m also kind of… happy?”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That makes one of us.”
Enid stepped closer.
Wednesday didn’t move back.
Enid’s voice dropped. “You really hurt me.”
Wednesday’s throat tightened. “I know.”
Enid’s eyes searched hers. “Are you going to do it again?”
Wednesday’s hands flexed at her sides like she wanted to reach out but didn’t trust herself.
“No,” Wednesday said, and there was no joke in it. “Not if I can stop it.”
Enid’s lips trembled. “That’s a weird promise.”
“It’s the only honest one I can give,” Wednesday said.
Enid stared for a long second.
Then she whispered, “I like you too, you know.”
Wednesday’s breath caught, sharp.
Enid smiled shakily. “Like-like.”
Wednesday exhaled, slow. “Don’t say it like that.”
Enid’s smile widened, despite the tears. “I’m saying it exactly like that.”
Wednesday’s eyes softened in the smallest possible way. “You’re insufferable.”
Enid nodded. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”
Wednesday’s mouth curved faintly. “Fair.”
Enid stepped closer again, so close their breath mixed.
Her voice was barely a whisper now. “Kiss me.”
Wednesday’s gaze locked on her.
Enid’s eyes flickered with fear. “Unless you don’t want—”
Wednesday moved.
It wasn’t gentle in the sweet way people wrote poems about.
It was careful in the way you handle something fragile that you’re terrified to break.
Wednesday’s hand came up and caught Enid’s jaw, steadying her. Enid’s hands grabbed Wednesday’s sleeves like she needed proof this was real.
Their mouths met.
Warm.
Soft.
And for one dizzy second, the world stopped being loud.
Then Enid made a small, surprised sound into the kiss, and Wednesday’s mouth curved, just a fraction, like she’d won something.
Enid pulled back first, breath shaking, eyes wide.
“Holy shit,” Enid whispered.
Wednesday’s voice was quiet. “Language.”
Enid stared at her like she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “You literally just kissed me.”
Wednesday’s fingers still rested at Enid’s jaw like she wasn’t ready to let go. “Yes.”
Enid blinked. “And you’re telling me ‘language.’”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a reflex.”
Enid laughed, bright and wet. “You’re impossible.”
Wednesday’s expression was almost fond. “And yet here you are.”
Enid leaned her forehead against Wednesday’s. “So what now?”
Wednesday’s throat worked.
This was the part where people made promises. Where they said things like we’ll be together and I’ll always be here and nothing will ever hurt us again.
Wednesday didn’t do lies wrapped in ribbons.
So she said the truth.
“Now,” Wednesday murmured, “we go back before your friends start a search party. Then we survive the consequences of you being drunk and me being emotionally incompetent.”
Enid smiled against her. “Okay.”
Wednesday added, reluctantly, “And Bruno is… irrelevant.”
Enid’s grin widened. “You’re so jealous.”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t push it.”
Enid kissed her again, quick and bright. “Too late.”
Somewhere behind them, the party roared, someone screamed “WHO SET THE BUSH ON FIRE?” and Pugsley shouted “IT WASN’T ME THIS TIME!”
Enid laughed, then winced. “Ow. My head.”
Wednesday took Enid’s hand.
Enid looked down like she couldn’t believe it.
Wednesday’s grip was firm. Real.
Enid squeezed back.
Slow burn didn’t mean slow forever.
Sometimes it just meant it hurt like hell before it finally caught.
“Wednesday?” Enid said softly as they started walking back.
“Yes?”
Enid’s voice was quiet, vulnerable again. “Don’t make me feel like I’m too much.”
Wednesday’s fingers tightened around hers. “You are too much.”
Enid’s face fell.
Wednesday continued, deadpan as ever, “For most people.”
Enid blinked.
Then Wednesday added, voice lower, “Not for me.”
Enid swallowed, eyes shining again. “Fuck.”
Wednesday glanced at her. “Yes. Exactly.”
And they walked back toward the chaos together.