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It all started with that hug.
That blasted hug.
It awoke something in her.
Awoke something that Wednesday couldn’t abide.
She had said, she had believed, that she would never become her mother.
In a way, she hadn’t.
Her vow to her mother at the beginning of her stay at Nevermore still rang mostly true.
With one, minor, surely insignificant exception.
She had without a shadow of a doubt, fallen impossibly far into the throes of love.
She felt the brambled thorns of the Addams family curse wring around her heart from the moment the hug broke, though she had scarcely been in the place of mind to realize it.
When ambulances pulled to the still burning school, taking Enid, her Enid from her.
She had torn out of the forest, covered in sticks, leaves, dirt, and blood. So much blood she couldn’t even open her left eye it had caked over it so heavily. And not just blood, but gashes too, going across her cheek at minimum, how far up no one could say, the blood made it too hard to see.
And so off she was taken to the hospital to be patched up and sewn back together. And Wednesday was left to grasp at empty air, the loss of her warmth felt so keenly now more than ever. She didn’t realize it at that time, and she wouldn’t realize it for quite a time later still, the aftermath of Crackstones rebirth and his second death, combined with the burning of the school, the death of Larissa Weems and the final defeat and subsequent imprisonment of both Laurel Gates and Tyler Galpin left much to be repaired.
The decision was made rather quickly. The students were to be given one week to gather their belongings as best they could, and they would set out from the school for an early and extended holiday.
And while for most this was cause for celebration. What teenage child wouldn’t give anything for a few extra weeks off of dreaded school after all. But for Wednesday?
For Wednesday it could not be further from the truth.
For Wednesday it would be many more weeks without Enid, many more weeks without closure as to her condition. Would she be alright? Would she get what she needs? Would she return and come back to Ophelia Hall? Would she ever see Wednesday again?
She wouldn’t come back during the packing week. According to her vapid oaf of a ‘boyfriend’ she had been ordered to stay and would go from Jericho General straight to California once she was discharged.
Her room and her things were to be packed up by her brothers still at Nevermore, something Wednesday allowed with only the barest amount of resolve keeping her from tearing them all to shred for daring to touch Enid's side of the room.
But on the final day of the week, loathe as she was to admit it even to herself, Xavier Thorpe of all people gave her the salvation that would keep her from insanity throughout the entire break. A mobile phone.
“My number’s in there already, in case you ever wanna chat over the break.” His words had fallen on deaf ears, his hope for reconciliation and even ‘something more’ ignored outright, the same as the number he had already put in the fiendish device.
As soon as she was out of sight of her family, delighted as they were to hear of how she had managed to save the school and defeated a centuries old reanimated pilgrim, she sequestered herself in her private quarters and with hands she would never admit held a slight tremor, she entered in the number she had memorised at the very beginning of her stay at Nevermore.
All memory as to who that number was given to at the time squashed all the way back into her subconscious with extreme prejudice.
With bated breath, she gingerly tapped on the ‘Call’ button.
One ring
Two rings
Three ri-
“Hello?”
Enid’s voice came through the device.
She answered
Tamping down the slight shake her voice threatened to exhibit, Wednesday answered.
“Hello there Sinclair, it seems my memory of your number has retained its accuracy.”
A breath
“… Wednesday?”
Her voice was tired, a bit groggy maybe, but it seemed that a minute spark had been lit upon her recognition of her oh so morose roommate.
“Yes I believe I am, unless the spirits populating the manor have decided otherwise.”
“You’re calling me? On a phone?” The spark only seemed to get brighter as uncertainty faded
“Yes, you may hold fast your tongue, I can already imagine the many jabs you may utter about my seeming ‘hypocrisy’” Wednesday deadpanned, her displeasure at the concept of these devices only barely outweighed by the need to know of her roommate’s status. “Rest assured my belief in the vapidity of social media and my feelings on technology enslaving weak minds remains entirely intact.”
“I wasn’t-… Well actually you kinda did take the words outta my mouth. Never mind that, why- how the hell do you have a phone in the first place?!” As with the spark of personality, her voice started to raise itself in volume, though the undertones of what had to be medication kept it from its usual starbright quality.
Wednesday huffed, the memory of how she received the device still fresh in her memory. “It was actually a gift. Despite my continuous showcase of complete disinterest in his affections, Thorpe decided that it was worthwhile to gift me this device for the sake of correspondence over the extended break. Why he believes I would ever willingly contact him joins the ever-growing menagerie of qualities I find rather displeasing about that man.”
“Ughhh…” Enid’s displeasure at the news was apparent, the huff of indignity so potent in its authenticity that if Wednesday were blind, she could have been tricked into believing Enid was right there in the room. “I do not get what that man is seeing… N-Not about you obviously, you’re great, fantastic even, but you’re not exactly the kinda person that plays ‘hard-to-get’, so to take all of what you’ve said about him and to him even and come to this conclusion is kinda…”
“Yes, his continual ability of misreading what I intend would make me think him dyslexic were I not speaking directly to his face.”
Enid’s giggles carried through the device’s speakers and Wednesday found herself inexplicably closing her eyes to bask in the relief they gave her.
Opening them after a moment, Wednesday finally made clear her real intentions for the correspondence. “I do believe I should disclose my true purposes for this surprise call.”
“Mhm, go ahead.”
“I wanted to ascertain your current health and wellbeing, given that you were taken to the hospital and the unmitigated chaos of the packing week left me unable to visit and find out for myself.”
“Oh uhm…” the spark of Enid’s sunny disposition sounded as if it was waning in answering this line of questioning. “I’m doing fine I guess… yeah the hospital fixed me up good, got a lotta bandages that should come off soon, give a point to werewolf healing for that, I couldn’t imagine wearing all this shit for weeks like the normies have to.”
“I am glad to hear that I-... I am sorry I couldn’t visit you while you were nearby.” The apology sounded strange in her throat, but not for lack of authenticity.
“Oh no that’s okay Wednesday, I’ve got a lotta stuff on me right now but back then? Whoo-boy I woulda looked like a mummy, it’s better to talk to you now when I can actually, y’know, talk.”
“I understand, I appreciate you answering in the first place, I feel more at ease to know you’re all right.”
“No problem roomie.” Her energy waxed once more into full brightness.
“However, I do have one last query.”
“Oh, go ahead then, shoot.”
Tabling the inquiry as to what relevancy gunfire had to the conversation. “I couldn’t help but notice a slight impediment in your speech. I had assumed it was simply from awakening from a nap but it has persisted throughout our conversing.”
“Oh… uhh, that’s just the medication. Werewolves might have super-healing but shit still hurts y’know. Everything feels a lil’ foggy right now.” While the explanation made perfect sense, it was delivered in a noticeably muted tone compared to her prior exuberance.
“I see, my thanks for your explanation. For reasons I cannot parse, my concern over your health has overridden much of my normal faculties, as such I appreciate being able to finally quell this feeling at long last.”
“No problem bestie.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I shall take my leave now. My time at Nevermore has left Pugsley feeling an inordinate amount of safety and I must rectify this affront immediately.”
“Gotcha, you go do your thing Wendy.”
As the call ended, Wednesday was left momentarily stunned.
———————
‘Wendy’
Her brain replayed the nickname over and over again.
Why did she not object to it? Why did she let Enid get away with it? Why did it make her feel… strange?
The answer to these questions would not come for a while.
But a greater, more important question would soon come up.
Why did they keep talking?
Only days later Wednesday was told by Enid that she had wrangled her parents into allowing her to return to Nevermore the next semester, and days after that she was informed via official channels that she and Enid would return to their dorm in Ophelia Hall.
The many questions she had been plagued with during packing week were now for the most part all answered.
There was no longer much need to keep calling with her.
So why did she?
It took naught but a week for them to develop a new dynamic for this long-distance evolution of their friendship.
Every night at 11pm, Wednesday would begin a call with Enid, which would then last upwards of an hour or two, with the two simply talking. Sharing stories, family lore, aspirations, wants and desires and almost everything in between.
They had learnt new boundaries for each other. Wednesday absolutely refused to text, save for sending pictures she believed Enid would want to see, and Enid refused to ever be seen on camera.
She had claimed every excuse under the sun, faulty device, bad hair day, no makeup, until one day she had simply shouted, screamed almost, that she simply didn’t want to.
The call had ended early that night.
The next night they tripped over each other trying to apologize at the same time, and simply agreed to not bring it up.
They would see each other again at Nevermore after all.
Some nights Wednesday overheard Enid’s ‘mother’ Esther screaming either something obscene or something judgemental, however it was always something about Enid.
Enid brushed it off each time, saying it was nothing she hadn’t heard before.
She didn’t know that one night she’d screamed loud enough just for a moment, where Wednesday heard the words “Horrible face” before Esther’s voice lowered back to a volume where her words were indecipherable.
On those nights Enid would be treated to an impromptu cello session
Wednesday never knew Enid had recorded and saved those moments to keep to herself. They helped her sleep.
Some other nights, Wednesday would get too far into her own head, rambling about what she could have done differently, what might have changed had she just been a little bit better, a little bit luckier.
On those nights Enid would blast K-Pop just long enough to break Wednesday from her spiral, and then talk at whatever length needed to get Wednesday to engage again, after which she would say whatever she could to try and assuage Wednesday from carrying guilt she didn’t deserve
Enid never knew this, but after the calls would end Wednesday had taken to repeating what she had been told as a kind of mantra.
But most strangely, the nebulous speech impediment Enid had insisted was caused by the inordinate amounts of pain medication she had been on persisted long past when she should have been taken off of it.
The one time she had asked Enid had simply (and badly) lied and feigned complete ignorance.
Wednesday, in a move so uncharacteristic it stunned her momentarily into silence, had simply let it go.
It was after that night Wednesday began to fervently investigate what hellish ailment could ever compel her to do that.
But without any easily definable list of symptoms, she knew after her first day of haphazard searching in the Addams library that she would be searching its labyrinthian shelves for the rest of her life without some form of direction.
So after a moment to gather her wits about her, and put aside at least a modicum of her pride, she found her father in his study the next day with a question.
“I have an investigation I wish to complete, but some of the necessary information I need is of a kind I cannot access without some kind of consultation.” She took a deep breath to steel herself. “Would you be able to be that consultation, and assist me in my investigation?”
Gomez turned slowly around in his chair to peer at his daughter, his head tilted ever so slightly, the sound of his daughter asking for help as foreign to his ears as it was to Wednesday’s own.
His face quickly broke into a delighted grin. “Why of course mi pequeño tormentita, goodness knows what could drive you of all people to such lengths. Ah you excite me already!”
Wednesday’s face remained a mask of indifference, a feat only possible thanks to the displeasure of needing assistance being equaled out by the relief she could finally put this issue to rest.
“Of course, now if you would follow me to the library, I wish to begin there.” She turned on her heels, starting off to the library without a moment's delay, her father taking it in stride as he bounded after her, coming to her side and walking with her the rest of the way.
Coming upon the library in short order, Wednesday shoved one half of the double doors open, her father squeezing through behind her as the door rebounded to close.
“Alright mi escorpión, what dreadful manner of thing are you investigating now? A deadly creature perhaps, or some new-fangled plot against your enemies?” Gomez looked around the massive shelves of the library with glee, a positively devilish glint in his eye.
“My latest investigation concerns myself actually.” Wednesday replied, her voice level and monotone in contrast to the vibrating excitement of her father.
“Ah I see, some new skill you wish to learn? Or a new poison you wish to immunize yourself to? Come come, tell your father.”
“It is actually a kind of affliction. I believe I have been subject to a new kind of illness that I wish to expunge myself of, yet the symptoms I can currently identify remain small in number and lacking in specificity. I wish your help in narrowing down the spectrum of what I should search for.”
“Ah hah, I see I see.” Gomez nodded in understanding, so hard in fact Wednesday was around 50% sure his head would pop right off. When he stopped, (and his head remained attached.) he sat himself down in one of the many plush armchairs littered about the space. “Go ahead, you have my full attention querida hija.”
“Understood. I believe this affliction began quite some time ago, but it was only the unearthing of the latest symptom that made me wise to its encroachment upon my self. During a conversation I held some nights ago with an acquaintance from Nevermore, my roommate Enid to be precise, she made a statement which triggered my investigatory instincts, which made it so I began a line of questioning so as to obtain more information. Yet, when rebuffed from an answer by her, my desire to push past and gain what I sought by force simply… vanished. I let her get away with a blatant deflection and did not pursue further. It was such a breach of the self I know that immediately upon the dawn of the next morning I began searching for some kind of affliction that would cause such an event, in hopes of seeking a cure.”
Wednesday slowly began pacing back and forth in front of her father, as she began to recount more and more instances of these ‘symptoms’ to his waiting ears, to which his only response was his already wide grin gaining further and further real estate across his face, an understanding beginning to bloom.
This came to a head as Wednesday recounted a specific instance relatively early in her and Enid’s communications where she had felt an inexplicable sense of elation upon hearing that Enid had broken off her relationship with Ajax, to which Gomez finally let out an audible reaction.
“I believe I just might know what it is that plagues you querida!” Gomez stated with a flourish, standing up with a bounce, his steps punctuated with a noticeable ‘pep’ as he stalked over to one of the nearer shelves, grabbing a rolling ladder as he passed into its shadow.
Wednesday watched as he stopped somewhat midway through, before locking the ladder into place and clambering up to the 9th shelf, dragging his finger light across several ancient tomes as he searched.
Gomez, for his part, knew that his daughter, intelligent as she was, was also born of a stubbornness that could stop trains. He understood that if she were ever to accept what he knew to be true of his daughter, that the family curse had caught yet another one of his family in its clutches, and for someone as bright and brave as her werewolf roommate no less, she would need to see the evidence first so she could not dismiss the conclusion outright.
Oh what a terrible wedding it would be, he could hardly wait already.
Wednesday watched, unknowing of the realization and subsequent machinations in her fathers head, as he grabbed a faded red tome, its features innocuous aside from the fact it might hold within its pages the answer to the question she had been pondering for the last two days.
She watched still, unblinking as he slid down the ladder, unlocking its wheels for the next curious mind who finds themselves in these walls, gingerly opening up the tome, the title on its front obscured by the angle he held it at.
As her father walked toward her, his speed was much slower than it was getting to the book, as he assumedly peruses its contents carefully, searching delicately for whatever passage he believes might be the answer Wednesday desires or needs. Soon he manages to find what he’s looking for, signalled to Wednesday by the subtle gasp he utters, followed by his pace towards her increasing markedly.
As he reaches her position in the centre of the room, he turns the book around and hands it over to her.
“Start here, tell me if that sounds familiar to you.”
Gomez waited with bated breath, the place he had pointed to in the book being a collection of accounts of the early onset of the Addams curse that he believed were subtle enough where Wednesday wouldn’t pick up on what the actual affliction was.
He watched as she scanned the page line by line, small nods and upticks in her breathing making Gomez’s grin expand wider and wider as he became more and more certain the evidence lined up.
“It seems this disease might be hereditary, could it be something every Addams must overcome with age?” Wednesday mused, turning her gaze back up to her father as she finally scanned through the last line on the page.
“Ah hah, I was right, the symptoms were familiar.” Gomez shook his fist in triumph, as he steeled himself for the coming aftermath of the revelation he was soon to unleash upon his daughter. “You are right in that it is something each and every Addams must overcome once they are exposed. But your belief it is a disease may be somewhat incorrect.”
“How so?”
“It can be construed as a disease easily, its source is external, it causes changes in our behaviour, our mood, our general disposition. Without treatment it is terminal, yet treatment only serves to allow the sufferer to live a normal life, as there is no true cure.”
“Father you are circling the point, either cut to the chase or I will do so myself.”
“Alright alright, the answer is in that book, simply… close it up and look at the cover.”
Wednesday followed his instruction, albeit slowly as she couldn’t quite understand why the answer would be on the outside shell rather than within the pages themselves. But the answer soon revealed itself, with the title ‘A Comprehensive Compendium of the Curse of the Addams Clan - From Castille to the New World - Covering the many cases of the curse from 1421 to 1761’
She read the title once, twice, thrice but each time understanding eluded her. The Curse? The Curse? The one that had plagued her family for centuries upon centuries? The same one that had claimed her father, the very father who stood before her right now?
How? How could this be? She wanted to deny it outright but her father, in all his cunning, had revealed the evidence first before the conclusion could taint any willingness to believe the conclusion drawn. But she could still scarcely believe it. She had been adamant in her belief that she would never, could never, fall to the curse. That her proclivities and her desire to retain her independence at any cost would inoculate her from ever falling to its clutches.
But then again, this was Enid.
Enid, the girl who at every turn had challenged Wednesday.
The girl who had consistently made herself a wall that required Wednesday to grow and adapt in order to live with.
The girl who had herself changed markedly under Wednesday’s influence.
The girl who had coined ‘W.W.W.D’ and wielded it like a mantra that led her to a better life.
The girl who had, upon leaving in anger, made Wednesday so upset with herself for turning Enid against her that she had simply sunk into herself for the rest of that night.
Of course, who else could ever manage to make Wednesday Addams fall to the curse.
Wednesday wouldn’t simply accept this as the new status quo immediately, she would attempt experimentation first before accepting the conclusion the curse drew.
But.
For the first time since Nero, she believed that love might actually have managed to pierce her black heart.
———————
The extended holiday would end in three weeks time.
That meant for Wednesday, she had three weeks worth of experimenting to do, before she finally could allow herself to fully accept that she had fallen to the Addams curse.
The first day was dedicated to coming up with as many experiments to run as possible, each week would culminate in one big hurrah of an experiment.
The first week would end with an experiment around deliberately provoking a negative reaction from Enid, and cataloguing Wednesday’s reaction to it. Although even the concept of this first experiment filled her with a new kind of dread, both for what it would mean as a result if it worked and from what Enid's reaction would be.
The second week’s large experiment would be to miss the nightly call entirely, which made Wednesday’s stomach flutter not only because of what she would do, but because breaking her routine in such a way inspired bouts of anger similar to whenever the Hyde case at Nevermore had eaten into her writing hour.
And the ending of the third week, would culminate with an attempt to lie to Enid. Now while the curse doesn’t completely bar its afflicted from lying to their beloveds, it is known to be inhumanly more difficult than it was before, even for compulsive liars of the family. Thankfully this symptom only pertains to lying to one's beloved, no one else, which Wednesday would account for by spending the rest of the day prior lying to her family in varying severities to make it certain that she still had the ability once the call rolled around.
The first week’s experiment went… horribly.
Not because it had given no results or information, that would be the case for a normal experiment. No, the experiment had gone horribly precisely because it had ascertained results.
Wednesday had tried to reframe something she had picked up on Esther saying in a more constructive light, yet the moment she had referred to Enid’s mother in a discernably positive light Enid had simply gone silent for the duration of Wednesday’s sentence. She stayed silent for many minutes afterward. Wednesday knew what she had said was wrong, but she had massively underestimated how badly trying to make Esther sound right would anger Enid.
Enid had eventually returned to speaking, but her tone of voice was much too calm. It unnerved Wednesday to hear all personality be stripped from her speech and morphed into this monotone, personless voice. With Wednesday it sounded normal, but on Enid it simply sounded wrong.
The call ended early that day, Enid had claimed she had become tired. Wednesday knew she was lying, as the brambles of the curse dug its thorns in and she felt it steal her breath away.
She spent the next call apologizing as profusely as her personality would allow, and by the next day she had smoothed things over back into normalcy.
It took an inordinate amount of self control to even allow the second week's experiment to begin.
The desire to not call Enid warred not only with Wednesday’s desire for routine, but much more so with a feeling Wednesday identified as want. The ‘want’ in this case being simply wanting to hear Enid’s voice in any capacity at all.
Wednesday watched as Enid texted her several times through the night, the worry in the words so palpable they threatened to upend the experiment completely. Wednesday couldn’t even begin to imagine what effect they’d have if they had been spoken aloud.
Again, the next day’s call spent a significant amount of time dedicated to apologies, less numerous and profuse this time but no less sincere.
The evidence was mounting quite quickly and Wednesday was beginning to realize just how possible it was that the curse already had her deep in its clutches.
The end of the final week came. Not only the last experiment but very likely the last time the two would share a phone call. Enid had already arrived at Nevermore the day prior to give her time to unwind and unpack, with Wednesday arriving the next day to do the same, though classes wouldn’t start until Tuesday, to give those abroad or those facing delays time to either recover from jetlag or ensure the delay didn’t cause issues with school scheduling.
Their conversation was flowing as normal, yet Enid had been noticeably quieter than usual, her voice taking on a nervous quality as Wednesday heard it more and more.
“It’s gonna be weird talking in person again. I’ve gotten so used to calling that my phone's shitty speakers are how I remember your voice a lot of the time.” Her chuckling continued to make Wednesday close her eyes to drink them in. “But it's been a lot of fun. I dunno how I woulda got through this summer without you. I’m excited to see you again, I betcha even you’re excited to see me too riiight?”
Finally, an opportunity. All Wednesday would need to do is say ‘No’ and the idea of the curse could be put to rest.
‘No’
‘… No!’
‘… NO!’
She couldn’t say it.
She couldn’t-
She couldn’t lie to her.
“As much as it pains me to say it, I am rather looking forward to being with you in person.”
“Awww, thanks Willa.”
Yet another insipid nickname that Wednesday never called her out for, and at this point she could almost admit she didn’t want to.
“Just… when you get here, I- I just wanna warn you, that I might not be exactly… the same. You’ll see tomorrow but just… temper your expectations, alright?”
The sudden shift in tone almost made Wednesday stutter in response.
“What does that mean?”
“I-… I don’t wanna say. You’ll see it when you get here, is all. I’m sorry but I gotta go okay Willa? You know how many plushes I’ve got and there’s still like half of them in here. I’ll talk to ya tomorrow okay?”
The deflection was poor, but as she had done several times now, Wednesday simply let it go. She would find out soon enough in person. Against all her better judgement, she trusted Enid to tell her the truth when the time came.
“Alright then, Goodnight Enid.”
“Goodnight Wednesday, Love you.”
As the line went dead, Wednesday’s hand dropped to her side, the phone loosely clutched in her fingers.
Her brain, her heart, her lungs, her- her everything stuttered and came to a full stop.
‘Love you’
She mimicked the words unconsciously.
Her experiment had succeeded. Irrefutably. And disastrously.
The curse had her. It had her solidly in its clutches. Angering Enid pained her. Ignoring Enid filled her with anxiety. And lying to Enid was simply no longer in the cards.
‘Love you’
She mimed it again.
She, Wednesday Friday Addams, the one who had once vehemently vowed never to love not a few months prior to her mother, had fully fallen into the throes of the curse.
And the worst part?
Even in her heart of hearts, she could not bring herself to want anything else. Because who else could break through the high stone walls of her soul, collapse the iron-wrought gate of her heart, but Enid Eleanor Sinclair.
It simply made, too much sense.
‘Love You’
She would die for her, she would kill for her.
Or as her father would say, 'Either way, what bliss.'
———————
It’s almost eerie how similar it looked
Morticia and Gomez in front, their affections undying and they reveled in showing it.
Lurch in the front driving, his movements practiced and calm
Pugsley in the passenger's seat, fiddling with one of his fishing lures, pulling the pin in and out again and again.
The only thing really different on this trip to Nevermore, was Wednesday.
Instead of looking at her parents with disdain veiled so thinly it might as well not have been veiled at all, she was looking off to the side, gazing through the expanse of forest in the direction she knew Nevermore was in, almost trying to will it into existence before her very eyes.
She hadn’t slept that night. The significance of the discovery she had made about herself, as drawn out as it had been over the past weeks, had shaken her to her very core, and now, in but a few hours or minutes, she would be reunited with the object of her affections.
Enid Sinclair. She wondered what she’d be like now.
She had been reading up on her lycanology in the weeks leading up to her return to Nevermore. She knew that by now Enid would have gone through her ‘second puberty’, the kind that all werewolves went through once they had shifted for the first time.
Would she be bigger? Taller? Stronger? Or would the changes be more towards her character? More assertive? More leaderlike?
The possibilities were endless
And simply pondering these potentials was able to draw a long and thoughtful sigh from her lungs.
It was uncharacteristic enough to snap her parents out of their adorations for each other, and each looked at her with a different expression.
Morticia looked at her with a confused tilt to her head. Despite the experiments going on for weeks Wednesday had somehow managed the herculean task of keeping it all under wraps from her mother. Her pride on the matter had made the idea of admitting she had been wrong to her face all those months ago when they first arrived absolutely abhorrent.
Meanwhile her father looked at her with a knowing smirk. She had requested that he keep the discovery of her affliction with the curse away from the rest of the family, and he had not only agreed, he had succeeded. Neither Pugsley nor Thing knew anything either, the former too busy being tormented, and the latter busy with Uncle Fester in Siberia.
“Wednesday, what has you in such a state? Why I haven’t heard such a sigh since your old steam guillotine broke down and you hadn’t yet learnt how to fix it.”
“Nothing mother.” Wednesday shifted in her seat to face her parents like usual. “I am simply lamenting the fact that you were not only right about this educational penitentiary, but that I am returning for yet another semester.”
The lie rang hollow in Wednesday's ears, the sheer ease of it making her incapability to do so to Enid all the more apparent, and thoughts of the curse soon followed in its wake.
Morticia only nodded in understanding. She could tell it was something else, this little thing wouldn’t have her Wednesday so off kilter, but she was unable to wrack her brain as to what could possibly be the culprit.
“Ah, I see. At this rate perhaps only one more semester and the next time you come back you’ll even refer to Nevermore with something approaching warmth.”
“Ah ‘Tish, as delightful as that would be I fear our little viper may make it but a fantasy.” Gomez drawled, slowly guiding Morticia’s face back towards his own.
“Oh but a mother can dream.” She responded, returning to her husband with such fervour the interruption might as well have not happened. She and Gomez waited for the cutting remark from their daughter, something about how such displays disgust her, yet such a statement never came.
Wednesday’s only retort to the public display was a slightly louder than usual indignant huff, yet no words would emerge. She instead gazed back out the sides of the hearse, visualizing Nevermore once again as if the trees and hills did not exist, and more specifically imagining the one person she wanted to see again.
The cycle would repeat again and again, small moments of familiar banter, but the verbal sparring would always cut itself much shorter than normal. Wednesday’s gaze returning to the window each and every time, her parents growing more and more apprehensive each time. Her mother concernedly, and her father knowingly.
Sooner rather than later however, the old iron-wrought gates of Nevermore would come into view, the view alone causing a noticeable enough jump in Wednesday’s heart rate that she pressed a hand to her chest in confusion, before understanding dawned and she accepted the new reality for what it was. Yet more proof.
As the old stone towers of the school proper emerged from behind the trees, Wednesday found her eyes unconsciously drawn towards the balcony of her dorm, the window likely already coloured in with those ugly coloured sheets of plastic. The image in her mind causing the slightest of upticks in one corner of her mouth. Just because she had fallen to the curse doesn’t mean she wasn’t aware enough to hide her newfound affections.
Once the hearse pulled up to the stairs leading into the central walkway, Wednesday waited for Lurch to pass by before she opened the door herself and clambered out. The gravel under her boots crunching in a tune that sounded oh so similar to the noise it had made those months ago.
She watched as Lurch began to unload her belongings, namely the large boxy trunk and her precious cello, leaving the much smaller case containing her typewriter to Wednesday herself. She nodded her thanks as he passed her by, Lurch responding with a groan, as she stepped up to the case, grabbing its shoulder strap to carefully rest it against her hip.
She watched as the rest of the family finished exiting the hearse after her, with her father closing the door behind her mother with a dramatic flourish. The three of them, Mother, Father, and Pugsley waited on the other side of the vehicle as she passed around the back of it to reach them.
As she came up to face them all, she waited for the inevitable questions leading to tearful goodbyes.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t want any help settling back in?” Her mother asked. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some time to reacquaint yourself with the environment again, no?”
“No, thank you mother. I have reason to believe that my roommate might be wanting of some privacy, as such I would prefer to keep all of you unmauled by an angry werewolf.”
“Oh how kind of you my little scorpion” Her father gushed, hands clasped against his chest.
“Do not mistake me father, I merely wish to not have to wash blood out of the floorboards. It would eat into my writing time.”
“Of course of course. In that case, once Lurch is back from unburdening himself we’ll see ourselves off.”
“We do hope you have a dreadful time again my daughter.” Her mother added on.
“Despite all my dedication last semester, this place still managed to pull me back. I am loath to admit that I do not see that changing this time around.”
“Heh, maybe this time you’ll be the monster they have to beat up.” Pugsley chuckled.
“For once, you provide an interesting idea dear brother, I’ll add it to my bucket list.” She punctuated her statement with a nod.
Suddenly the four of them all heard extraordinarily deep footsteps against gravel, and they all gazed in unison as Lurch returned, fully unburdened from his great haul of Wednesday’s belongings.
Gomez was first to note it all and respond in kind. “Ahhh, cheers old boy, could you get the car ready to start, we’ll just be saying our goodbyes before we’re off back home.” Lurch groaned and nodded in agreement.
Wednesday moved to get the end over and done with “Very well then. Pugsley, despite my statement last time I left you, you survived. Perhaps with the lessons I’ve imparted on you during this break you might start to run the place by the time I return.”
“You bet sis, I’ll miss ya.” He moved to give her a quick squeeze of a hug, Wednesday counting three seconds before he leapt back to safety.
Gomez walked up next, grabbing her in a crushing embrace and lifting her up into the air, he whispered into her ear for only her to hear. “Your secret’s safe with me, I cannot wait for when you bring her home my scorpion.” Before plunking her back on the ground, smiling ear to ear all the while, wiping a single tear from his eye as he stepped back.
And finally, Morticia strolled up to her, the venom of their last goodbye not forgotten by either of them, but not repeated this time around either. Reaching down to lightly clasp her daughters shoulders, she leant down to kiss the air beside each cheek, before landing one lightly in the centre of her forehead.
“As exciting as last semester was… perhaps this time around could use a bit more of your usual charm.”
Wednesday wasn’t surprised by the sentiment. Knowing that your daughter had fully clinically died and was revived by a long dead ancestor would rattle any mother, even one as hardy as Morticia.
“No promises mother, though perhaps some more care couldn’t hurt.” Wednesday spoke, the last part quieter to placate her mother’s frankly understandable worries.
“Very well, I look forward to hearing from you once you’re settled in.”
As Morticia glided away, Wednesday watched them all pile back in, offering a silent prayer for Pugsley as he took her place in the back with her parents, before they drove off back towards the manor. She turned around to finally return to her old stomping grounds.
———————
Getting to Ophelia hall in the first place was far more of a sisyphean effort than Wednesday ever remembered it being.
Apparently saving the entire school from an undead genocidal pilgrim, a violently racist botany teacher and a giant hulking monster masquerading as a teenage boy will draw some unwanted attention.
She was hounded every inch of the way into Nevermore, having to shoo away sycophants of all manner of demographic.
Her torment was only abated when Bianca Barclay finally stepped in, ordering the entire crowd to ‘Back Off’ in short order. The most impressive part being she didn’t even deign to use her siren song on a single one of them.
Wednesday almost found herself jealous of her ability to command with such few words and sheer presence. Perhaps by the end of this semester they would compete in that arena too.
It doesn’t matter, she finally made it to Ophelia, the new dorm mom (months of time have done no kindness to how strange that title is) sitting at the entrance with a pen and clipboard, seemingly jotting down every occupant as they arrive for the first time.
Wednesday walked up to where she was seated, left hand resting on her typewriter case, right hand clasped around the strap holding it against her shoulder, before clearing her throat to announce her presence.
The woman, Ms Beauflower if memory serves, looked up from her board in short order. “Ah, Ms Addams, I’ll fill you in, only take a second. Mm, there. Alright, head on up.”
Giving the woman a small and quick nod of thanks, she began the trek back up to her dorm. She had honestly expected for more useless drivel from the teacher but it seems Laurel Gates’ replacement had a bit more of a head on her shoulders.
As Wednesday took more and more steps up the flight of stairs leading to her dorm, each step became slower than the last. Her hands, which had thus far been as still as stone, began to exhibit just the slightest of tremors. And her chest began to tighten in a way she was all too familiar with, thanks to that second week of experiments.
Regardless, the ascent up the stairs would not become some new rendition of Achilles and the Tortoise, and she eventually reached the peak. The door just a few more feet from her position, Wednesday began to make her way towards it, her footsteps betraying an uncharacteristically timid noise as she let thing off back on her shoulder, reaching her right hand out to the doorknob as she had done so many times before.
Turning the handle slowly, the door opened with soft creaking noises as the hinges turned inwardly.
Stepping into the room fully for the first time in so many weeks felt strange, especially as Enid had already made it all back to how it had looked on her very first day, save for the central window being only half-covered now, an entirely unnecessary concession as Wednesday hadn’t been here to enforce it, yet the gesture made her once dead heart clench all the same.
Looking back towards Enid’s side of the room, she was surprised to find her roommate standing right there, stock still and facing away from her. Her lack of exuberant greeting unsettling the goth.
“… Enid?” Wednesday began, her voice abnormally soft and tentative.
Enid turned only slightly, her hair now much longer than it had been last time they’d seen each other, reaching well past her shoulders and even so far as to reach the lowest point of her shoulder blades.
“Heya… roomie. How’ve uh- how’ve you been?” The nervousness of their last call paled in comparison to now. If Wednesday’s hands were shaking then Enid’s voice would register on the richter scale.
“… I’ve been fine Enid. The ride here with my parents was expectedly saturated with their shows of affection, and Lurch brought my luggage up so I needn’t dislocate my shoulder attempting it myself.”
“Ah, yeah. I saw him. Big uh- big guy. Gotta be pretty damn strong to uh- to lift all that stuff up.”
“Enid are you alright?”
Wednesday watched as Enid’s shoulders flinched upwards as if shocked. “Huh, w-what? W-whaddya mean? I’m fine Wends, totally cool y’know. Just the same ol’ E-Enid as before.”
“Enid… why are you facing away from me?”
“Oh-kay just ripping the band-aid straight off aren’t we? I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get snippy, I am the one who told you ‘you’ll see when you get here’ after all.”
“It's fine Enid. I’d have to have particularly thin skin to be insulted by that.” Wednesday wandered over to her desk, Enid keeping her back turned toward her at all times, no doubt making use of her greater senses as a werewolf to get an accurate picture of where Wednesday is in the room at all times.
Enid waited until she heard Wednesday place her typewriter case against the surface of the desk, waiting for her to wander back closer to Enid.
“S-so… the thing I told you to prepare for. It’s also… god you probably already figured it out… It's also why I never let you see my face over the phone. Y’know, during our whole late night calls sesh’s during the break.”
“Yes I remember.” Wednesday stopped her approach at the old boundary that had long since disappeared, lightly clasping her hands together at her front.
Enid turned around just slightly, only the right side of her face becoming visible, though still much obscured by the mass of hair she had grown over the summer. At the very tip of her chin, a small scar became visible, and Wednesday began to form an understanding.
“The- the thing I need to show you… it's on my f-face. I’ll turn around in just a sec but just- just don’t gasp, whatever you do. This fucking thing has given me a lot of grief over the summer and if I hear one more fucking gasp I’m gonna lose it.”
“You have scars on your face, from the battle with Tyler.” Wednesday asserted, already confident that whatever Enid showed would not rattle her.
“I- uh… Well, yes and no. Yes there’s scars but that’s not the only thing. He took- I lost-… fuck this is harder than I thought I’ll just- I’ll just turn around and you can see for yourself.”
Wednesday was confident she wouldn’t have to brace herself
Wednesday should have braced herself.
Scars don’t scare Wednesday. In fact she finds them endearing. She was sure she would find them endearing here too.
But here?
All Wednesday wishes here is that they never needed to exist at all.
Four scars litter Enid's face
The smallest sits on her chin, barely worth noting, splitting that part of her face perfectly in two.
But things get much worse with just the next one.
It answers why Enid has had- still has a speech impediment.
This one cuts up from her jaw, across her lower cheek and has mangled the corner of her mouth, permanently splitting it open to show left canines to the world.
But as Wednesday’s gaze goes farther up, she realizes exactly how much worse it can get.
Her eye. Her left eye. Once the very same eye she used to wink at Wednesday with.
‘Or you can just glare uncomfortably, whatever works for you’
The memory rises unbidden, because now… now she could never do that again.
Her left eye, once an ocean of vibrant turquoise, is now muted, grey, and dead.
The eye remains open, but it's clear she couldn’t blink if she wanted to.
This third scar, jumps up from behind the corner of her jaw, extending down so far as to past where Wednesday can see on her neck, and extending up so far to bisect the eyebrow above the ruined eye.
The fourth barely peeks out from behind her hair on the left, but just from the size of the bit of it she sees, it’s clear there's a reason why her hair on her left is not quite as thick as the hair on the right of her head.
Wednesday’s eyes travel across Enid’s face to gaze into her remaining good eye.
And an old friend surfaces from behind the curtain.
Guilt.
But this time, Wednesday would take the guilt of making Enid leave a thousand times, over the guilt she feels now seeing her dead eye.
She had done this. This was Wednesday’s fault.
If she had been right about Tyler from the start.
If she hadn’t been tricked into suspecting Xavier
If she had refused Tyler’s advances and gone with Eugene from the start.
If she had realized Thornhill had been Laurel the entire time.
If she hadn’t let her guard down and been captured
If she had tried to sneak around Tyler instead of goading him like an Idiot.
If any one of these had happened
Enid would still have her eye.
And Enid-
Enid was… smiling?
It was a small, almost nervous smile.
But she was smiling.
Why?
Wednesday didn’t deserve it.
Wednesday was why it would never be the same again.
“I-I’m- I’m sorry.”
Enid would have missed it if she weren’t a werewolf.
Her smile fell, replaced by a look of concern.
Of course Enid would be concerned. She had always given Wednesday far too much. Her friendship, her forgiveness
Her Eye.
“I’m sorry… I’m so- so sorry.”
A tear sprung forth, on the very same side where Enid’s could no longer do the same.
And another, on the other side
And another, and another and another.
She hadn’t cried like this since Nero, she hadn’t cried like this when she thought she might lose Thing.
She was crying like this now.
Because now, she knew exactly what Enid meant to her.
And because of her… Enid had lost so much.
Enid watched as the tears started falling, her eye widening in shock.
Immediately, she started rushing forward to catch her, grabbing her around the shoulders in a hug just like the one they’d shared after they had beaten Crackstone, Tyler and Laurel.
“Oh no no no no, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, please don’t blame yourself, it's not your fault.”
Wednesday felt the arms wrap around her, strong arms that could tear doors off hinges with naught but the slightest effort, but here they caught her like she were made of porcelain. She ought to hate it, but right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Her arms jerked upwards, bit by bit before they came to rest on Enid's back, and almost immediately her fingers curled into the girls soft pastel sweater, rash be damned Wednesday needed to hold onto something right now, and Enid right there, and soft and warm and-
She didn’t deserve it.
She realized after only a second, and started to try and push off of Enid’s shoulders but the girl wouldn’t let her.
“No… no I know what you’re doing and I’m not- I’m not letting you.” Enid tightened her grip on the girl, waiting for her to give up, feeling her arms wrap back around and her fingers curl desperately into her sweater.
“I don’t care, what you think. You’re not to blame. You’re not to blame for any of this, you hear me? I would do it again… god I would do it all again, even if I knew what I’d lose going in, I’d do it again.” Enid was almost growling the words, trying to force the stubborn goth to listen and accept them for the truth Enid knew they were.
“B-but, if I had just… if only I had found them out sooner you never would’ve… you never would have had to pay such a price.” Wednesday almost whispered, her words muffled as her head had bowed into the crook of Enid’s neck.
“And if Laurel wasn’t such a bigoted Bitch or if Tyler weren’t a murderous asshole, I also wouldn’t have been hurt. This is on Them, not you. You never should have had to carry all of it alone. They’re to blame, not you.”
Wednesday felt herself be pushed away, Enid’s hands over her shoulders as if she were about to shake the poor girl to get her brain working.
“And look, even despite it all… I wolfed out! I wolfed out and my mom was so so fucking mad cause my wolf was bigger than hers. All this time and she was pickin’ on the biggest wolf of the bunch.” Enid kicked her head back and cackled something fierce, slowly turning her head back down to look at Wednesday with her good eye.
Wednesday watched as it looked like all the warmth and joy that had been in the other simply migrated over.
“And besides… you’re the first person so far to see my scars and not- and not look like you’re scared of me o-or disgusted by me. My mom’s lip curled so much it was almost permanent, my dad just looked sad, my brothers all got spooked, even Yoko as well for a second, and Ajax… Ajax could hardly even look at me.” Enid positively growled the last part, the embers of their less than amicable separation still clearly alive and well.
“But blaming yourself for them? I did this… I chose to jump in there, even before I wolfed out I was ready to fight him as my normal human self. I knew the risks going in, hell there was even a good chance I’d have died. But…but, it would have still all been my choice.”
Wednesday’s gaze dropped down to the floor. “You never should have needed to make that choice.”
Enid tucked her finger beneath Wednesday’s chin, guiding her face back up to look Enid in the eye. “And you never should have needed to get stabbed in a crypt and literally come back to life.”
Wednesday’s heart stuttered as Enid grabbed her by the chin. A motion so soft yet it felt intimate, she could barely compute what Enid was saying, yet the sentiment was communicated clearly nonetheless.
“I- I understand. I will… endeavor to not pass blame onto myself unjustly. I cannot promise I will always… succeed. But I will try.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”
As Enid took her hands off of Wednesday’s shoulders, she found herself leaning forward the slightest amount to chase after them but caught herself.
“Oookay, I am really sorry for crossing your boundaries like that, you just really surprised me with the tears and I kinda went on auto-pilot. Not hugging is kinda our thing anyways, remember?”
“It can- It doesn’t have to be… if you want.” Wednesday immediately bit down on her tongue, punishing the traitorous muscle for such a display.
“O-oh… I’m okay with that, I guess. Only if you’re sure tho.”
Releasing her tongue, she immediately regretted it as it betrayed her again. “I am… sure.”
“Cool, good. You wanna… I dunno, try practicing giving instead of receiving? I’m totally cool if it's not your thing, just thought you’d maybe wanna see for yourself.”
Well now if she didn’t try she’d seem like a coward.
Wednesday stepped forward, bit by bit, Enid’s arms hanging loosely at her sides, before Wednesday pushed them away from her body as she hooked her arms up beneath Enid’s and around her torso, her hands curling into fists as they locked around the taller girls body, one above the other.
She was about to call this little experiment off and declare it a failure before Enid’s own arms came up around her shoulders, and she squeezed the little goth as tight as she thought Wednesday could handle.
Instead of calling this experiment off, instead Wednesday thought that she could die now and be happy.
‘Wait’ She thought
No, not yet, she still had something to say.
And now that the thought had come, in this environment where Wednesday’s faculties were already impaired by the event of her crying, there was little she could do to stop it bubbling up, so she figured she might as well make the best of this unforeseen confession session.
Slowly pushing themselves apart, Wednesday stood apart from Enid now, her gaze slightly downturned as she gathered the courage to say what she needed in a fashion approaching coherent.
Enid watched, her head tilted at an angle, as Wednesday’s already overtaxed brain began working so hard that had this been a cartoon her head would have been as hot as an iron to the touch.
Springing her head back up, Enid flinched back slightly in surprise at the movement, Wednesday finally having gathered the words she needed to say.
“Enid.”
“Yes Willa?”
“I have something I need to confess, and due to the effort and energy consumed by my earlier emotional outburst, I don’t believe I have the requisite strength to keep it at bay any longer.”
“Huh? Whaddya mean?”
“Enid Sinclair. Throughout our time apart over the extended break, I have undergone an extensive effort of self-reflection, the extent of which has resulted in many outcomes, but the greatest and most important of these concerns you.”
“Me? What about me?” Enid’s brow furrowed at this new information, her head tilting at a more extreme angle in the other direction in confusion.
“Yes… this is difficult for me to say, as I have spent a not-insignificant amount of time denying I could ever feel this way about another person, especially to the extent I feel it for you.”
Enid’s eye began to widen exponentially. “Feel? Wait you said ‘Feel’?”
“Yes… Enid Sinclair. I believe that- No, I know that I have developed… feelings… for you. Feelings of a… romantic… nature”
“You hav- For me? Me? Why? Why me?” Tears of her own began to well up in her eyes. For as confident as she was in her choice to save Wednesday and bear these scars, her mother had done her damndest to tear all that away.
Wednesday tilted her own head in confusion. “Why not for you? Despite our short time knowing each other you have forced me to evolve, change, and grow despite my many attempts to refuse it. You challenge me at every turn, and you refuse, no matter what, to diminish yourself simply in order to appease me.”
Enid’s hand unconsciously reached towards her scars. “But- But I’m… I’m hideous… I’m damaged, I can’t- I can’t see out of my left eye Wends, why would you ever want-?”
This time it was Wednesday’s turn to launch herself towards Enid, cupping her face on both sides with her hands, the movement gentle yet firm. “Don’t… Your scars are not a mark of shame. Despite the guilt I feel towards them, they are not signs you are broken, or that you are weak, or that you are hideous. They are symbols of your strength, your will and your determination to face whatever life throws at you head on.”
As Enid’s tears began to leak out from her eye, Wednesday brushed each and every one away, her gaze never moving from Enid’s own, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You are beautiful, mon loup, any who cannot see it are blind, any who do not believe it ought to be. I only feel the guilt I do because you were hurt on my account, but never for a moment did I believe you weren’t as bright and as beautiful as the day I met you.”
Enid’s eye closed at the pure unadulterated adoration pouring from the seer’s voice, her smile returning once again but smaller, softer, private.
She whispered to Wednesday in turn. “This is probably pretty crazy to ask but… can I- can I kiss you?”
Wednesday allowed her own lips to curl into a smile. “I was hoping you would ask.”
Enid leant forward, Wednesday matched her movement for movement, and in the middle, their lips met.
It was soft, tender, full of so much that had been left unsaid, so much that had yet to be said.
It was everything they could have asked for, everything they could have wanted, everything they didn’t even know they needed
It was perfect.