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Their second year at Nevermore had begun with a bang, a fact that Enid told herself simply came with the territory of being besties with someone as notorious as Wednesday Addams. The ever-present threat of Wednesday’s stalker was concerning but Wednesday seemed unperturbed in her usual way and was determined to identify them.
School, however, waited for no one and homework did not worry whether one’s roommate was being stalked by an avian, and so Enid was hard at work at her desk and she was already two energy drinks deep. Even werewolves had to wrangle with Shakespeare and pesky iambic pentameter, and as Enid scrunched up her face for the dozenth time in growing exasperation Wednesday’s methodical keystrokes offered her a steady backdrop of sound to work to. Her usual K-pop playlist was proving to be too distracting, all she wanted to do was dance to it.
Enid was contemplating tearing up her notebook, Hamlet had her so worked up, and so she did not register that the typing had stopped. She felt Wednesday’s chilling presence behind her with a familiar pleasantness that she had grown to look out for, perhaps even seek out, and if Enid had to describe it, the sensation reminded her of the initial shock that cold water wraps around you when stepping into the freezing ocean. While it may feel extreme at first you will quickly acclimatise until finally you dread having to leave at all.
Living with Wednesday felt a little like that to Enid.
“Oh, hey roomie. You all finished with your homework? Hamlet is killing me and I want to kick this Shakespeare guy, to be honest,” Enid said.
Wednesday did not move to speak, content to silently look Enid over with her hands behind her back that left Enid feeling slightly suspicious. Realising that Wednesday had something on her mind, Enid pushed away from the desk and twisted around in her seat to face her friend without risking cricking her neck.
Finally, Wednesday spoke.
“I finished that simple Literature assignment days ago, Enid,” she said, and she glanced down to the desk where Enid’s books and scribbled out notes littered the gnarled wood. “You haven’t, I see.”
“Oh,” Enid frowned, “no need to rub it in, you know.”
“You think I walked all the way over to your side of the room to gloat?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Enid reminded her, and she looked up at Wednesday with no small amount of side eye that was more playful than judgemental. “So, what makes you risk the threat of standing on my rainbow rug anyway?”
Enid said this with a smile, glancing downwards to where Wednesday’s chunky Doc Martens stood on top of her colourful tufted rug, and she watched her steel-eyed roommate stiffen.
“I am not so delicate that I cannot survive being near your abomination of interior design, Enid, my constitution is far too robust for that. Besides, my shoes provide a sufficient barrier,” Wednesday said simply.
For some reason this response made Enid’s smile widen and she stood up with a bounce in her step, feeling something warm and tingly inside her belly when Wednesday did not take a step back from her. She looked at Wednesday expectantly, thankful for the excuse to take a break from her homework, or at least telling herself that was the only reason she was happy to see her macabre roomie on her side of the room.
Wednesday unceremoniously held up a piece of paper in front of Enid’s confused face, her blue eyes taking a moment to adjust as Wednesday held it so close under her nose that Enid thought she might go cock eyed.
“Um, what is this?” Enid asked innocently.
“A roommate contract.”
Enid stared at Wednesday, her head tilting in that puppyish way that Enid noticed left Wednesday grinding her teeth, for what reason Enid did not know.
“What? Why? We survived living together last year, so what’s with the paperwork? OMG, don’t tell me you want to reinstate the tape, I’d rather die.”
Wednesday’s jaw tensed, Enid snapping the paper out of her hand to scrutinise it, and Wednesday shifted to cross her arms in front of her chest.
“You wolfed out in our room, Enid, formal measures need to be taken.”
Enid eyed the piece of paper curiously, squinting as she read aloud. “Ophelia Hall Roommate Agreement…”
“Is there a problem, Enid?”
“Yes, actually, several, including the lack of pink marker but we’ll get to that later.”
Without commenting on Enid’s remark Wednesday turned around with a flick of her braids, arms still firmly crossed, and she walked back to her side of the room to sit back at her desk.
“As impressive as your werewolf form is your – your considerable frame is unsuitable for a room of this size. I hope you understand,” Wednesday said. “The balcony will doubtless offer you a better view of the moon anyway. I shall give you time to review the agreement and, if you are agreeable, we can sign it tonight,” Wednesday continued in her usual monotone.
Enid looked up from the paper, she had read it over three times already, and she simply stared at the back of her roommate’s perfectly styled head with a puppyish pout that Wednesday seemed to sense.
“Er yeah, some of these need to go!”
“I can already tell by your tone that you seek to twist my arm. I suppose I may consider requests to-”
The heavy stomping of Enid’s glittery purple boots made Wednesday pause, and before she knew it the warm-blooded werewolf was slamming the paper on to Wednesday’s desk. Enid popped off the pen lid of her favourite pink pen with her thumb, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration, and Wednesday watched her attentively as Enid struck through three separate rule items in quick succession. Wednesday’s eyes momentarily widened before she regathered herself, and she tapped her pale fingertips against the dark wood in impatience.
“They are not to your liking?” Wednesday asked steadily.
“Nope.”
From where Enid leaned on to Wednesday’s desk, she could see Thing scurrying towards them from his resting spot on Wednesday’s bed, his hurried taps announcing his arrival as the two roommates stared at one another. He wanted to get a look at these “rules” for himself. Once he was on the desk, Enid pushed the paper towards him and he quickly began tapping in response.
“See, Thing agrees with me, who has a ‘no eating rule’ in their room, crazy people, that’s who! You know I need to eat every few hours, Wednesday, or I get hangry,” Enid explained seriously. “Werewolf metabolism is no joke.”
“Your late-night snack habit attracts ants, Enid, and you already rejected my offer to entrap them in one of Pugsley’s ant farms.”
“Because you wanna display them where I can see them, hard pass.”
“I offer you a viable solution and you reject it, which is your prerogative, but if they cannot be utilised then stop leaving your crumbs everywhere.”
Wednesday glared at Thing for his interference, especially as it was not in her favour.
“Animated hands do not get a vote, Thing, you are influencing Enid against me.”
Enid rolled her eyes.
“He’s not influencing anyone; he just happens to agree with me.”
“Traitor,” Wednesday said, her glare building serious heat, enough to make Thing squirm underneath her gaze.
“Don’t intimidate the little guy,” Enid said, and she offered her hand to Thing to jump into, which he happily accepted. “Come on Thing, you can sit with me while I re-write this roommate agreement or whatever.”
Enid began to move and Wednesday turned around in her chair to follow her.
“Ophelia Hall Roommate Agreement, use the proper title.”
“Yeah, yeah, Miss Grouch,” Enid mumbled.
Enid strolled back to her side of the dorm, clearing room on her desk for her new task without a thought for her English textbooks, and she quickly bowed her head in concentration.
----- 🐦⬛🖤🩷 🐺 -----
Wednesday told herself to concentrate on her writing but Enid had been scribbling for the last fifteen minutes without so much as a glance her way. Not that she paid attention to such things, of course. Naturally, she refused to reveal her interest in Enid’s task, choosing instead to retreat to the balcony to play her cello. Her writing efforts were proving especially tortuous tonight and the cello might prove to be more rewarding, or at least distracting.
The night air was particularly fresh this evening, a disappointment that grated at the back of Wednesday’s throat. In fact, the sky was clear of clouds and full of stars that glittered above her head in a dazzling array, and the moon was no better as it shined brightly across the whole of Nevermore.
‘Enid would enjoy the sky tonight,’ Wednesday thought.
Wednesday’s fingers tensed against the strings as she realised what she was doing, her mind betraying her yet again, and she quickly shook away the distraction in what had now become a force of habit. Where thoughts of Enid lingered so too did those indescribable feelings that threatened to devour Wednesday whole and she refused to bend to them. This is why they needed rules, Wednesday told herself, because even amidst the chaos of whatever this was within Wednesday she knew she could find some relief in the security that a set of rules provided.
The irony was not lost on her that in all other areas Wednesday ignored rules as easily as she ignored the state traffic code. For some reason Enid consistently complicated things in her life that used to be uncomplicated.
With furrowed brows she threw herself into a new musical piece she was studying, her fingers gliding over the strings with practised grace that hid the work behind the action. If one were to look closely, if Wednesday were to allow it, one would see the calluses that such intense playing left on her fingertips. Enid had commented on them once; she had even joked about touching them only to reassure Wednesday that she wouldn’t overstep her boundaries.
“Not unless you invite me to.”
When Enid had said that Wednesday had stewed on it for a fortnight afterwards.
Perhaps she was in a prison of her own making when the thought of Enid touching her hands did not seem so intolerable after all …
‘Concentrate.’
She played with increasing passion and frenetic energy, her usually controlled and precise body moving freely as the music passed through her. When Wednesday played her cello, she did not seek restraint, but her pursuit of perfection was a straightjacket of a different fabric and Professor Capri seemed to think she needed to be more open when she played.
‘Whatever that means.’
When the time of her cello practice came to an end Wednesday found herself in an unusual position, because she sensed that the moment she walked through the window and into their room that Enid would jump on her to discuss the revisions she had made. Or did she hope Enid would?
‘How odd.’
Her black heart sped up just to think of it, and with a grim set of her mouth Wednesday stood up, ignoring the lively organ completely in favour of leaving the balcony without a second glance up at the bright moon above.
Mindful not to be too obvious, Wednesday glanced over to Enid’s desk and found it empty, and looking further she saw her colourful roommate splayed on her bed amidst a selection of plushies. Wednesday quickly looked away the instant Enid looked at her, placing her cello back on its stand without saying a word in greeting. Enid respected this, expected it even, and Wednesday appreciated her friend’s understanding of her nature. Unlike everyone else, Enid did not try and change her to fit in, which made Enid’s notes of genuine interest to Wednesday.
“Have you finished your scribbling?” Wednesday asked, and she turned to look at Enid without restraint this time.
Enid was leaning her cheek against her palm, her stomach flat to the bed, her legs lazily moving up and down so that her calves hit her bottom with each pass through the air, and for some reason Wednesday found herself planted in place where she stood. Enid watched Wednesday watching her and the two friends simply held each other’s gaze for a time. Wednesday was aware that Thing moved on Enid’s bed but she did not pay him any attention, and she swallowed to clear the tightness that had suddenly formed in her throat but found the prickliness persisted anyway.
They seemed to snap out of the shared haze at the same time, Enid shaking her head before speaking.
“Um yeah, pretty much,” she replied, and she offered Wednesday a warm smile that was dangerous in this time of emotional disquiet, so much so that Wednesday made herself focus on Enid’s eyes instead of her lips.
“Very well,” Wednesday said, and she walked up to the half way mark of their room. The tape was long gone but the natural line remained, and Wednesday stood on the invisible line with one hand outstretched. “Let me see it.”
With a devastating pout, Enid pushed her upper body off the bed with her arms and waved the paper in the air.
“If you wanna read it so bad you’ve got to come over here. I’m way too comfy to move.”
There was a time when Wednesday would have denied Enid the request and insisted that she come to meet her, but Wednesday’s feet moved without conscious thought and in the blink of an eye she was standing in front of the bed. She did not speak, choosing instead to stand over Enid and hold out her hand, and Enid offered the paper to her with a grin.
“What was that you were playing tonight?” Enid asked as Wednesday read the paper intently. “You sounded really into it.”
A subtle crease formed between Wednesday’s eyebrows and she answered Enid without looking up.
“You were listening, I see.”
“Kinda hard not to,” Enid pointed out, and still Wednesday kept her eyes on the paper.
“No disgruntled comment about the volume tonight.”
Enid shrugged.
“Nah, I’m used to it, besides,” Enid continued, “your playing is tied to your emotions. Once I realised that it seemed a bit mean to ask you to tone it down. My dancing is the same way.”
Wednesday stopped her third readthrough abruptly, slowly lowering the paper until her eyes were just visible.
“My emotions,” Wednesday said, and she emphasised the word with a clinical disconnection that she told herself was only natural and for the best. “You are mistaken, as usual.”
Not wanting to seem too interested Wednesday lifted the paper in front of her face again, and she heard Enid sigh.
“You tell yourself that if you like, Wednesday.”
Slow intent was replaced with uncontrolled speed, Wednesday’s hands dropping to her waist with the paper gripped between her fingers. She narrowed her eyes but instead of Enid shrinking from the look she merely sat up on her bed, straightening her back and staring up at Wednesday with her bright blue eyes.
“Don’t be so defensive, grumpypants, it’s no bad thing,” Enid told her, and she flicked the paper held between Wednesday’s fingers, the nail of her index finger punching into it with a dull thwack, and Wednesday almost lost her grip on it.
“Irksome wolf.”
“Grumpy raven.”
They looked at each other and Wednesday counted to ten in her head as she held her breath, her eyes lowering to Enid’s lips and lingering there for some reason.
‘Intolerable.’
“You have made a number of changes,” remarked Wednesday, her gaze meandering back up to Enid’s waiting eyes.
“Obviously, I can’t have you ruling the roost, this is a democracy not a dictatorship.”
“Must you speak in such dramatic terms.”
“You love it!”
“I tolerate it.”
“Same difference,” Enid beamed, and Wednesday inhaled deeply through her nose.
She turned away, scanning Enid’s desk for a suitable pen to use and closing her eyes in exasperation because she should have known better.
“Do you own a single pen that isn’t an obnoxious colour?”
Enid swung her legs around to hang them off the edge of the bed, her chest puffing out as she replied.
“There should be a black one … somewhere,” she said, and she teased the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth absentmindedly.
‘Vexing creature,’ Wednesday thought to herself.
----- 🐦⬛🖤🩷 🐺 -----
Once Wednesday had secured an appropriate pen from her own private collection the two friends had gone back and forth for the next hour hashing out the rules before they were both satisfied. Sadly for Wednesday, Enid had insisted that she cover for her when it came to Eve of the Outcast duties and because of this, Wednesday had expressed her reluctance to the rule by specifying that she would “begrudgingly” handle such duties only in cases of an emergency. Enid had rolled her eyes but a win was a win. Wednesday then typed the agreement up on her typewriter, and Enid had to pretend not to be surprised that she had a supply of official Nevermore stationary stashed in her desk drawer.
“Now where did you steal those from, hmm?”
Wednesday did not physically react at first, but slowly the corner of her mouth teased upwards with what Enid thought was the threat of a smile.
“There was a time where you would have talked my ear off about the ethics of stealing and yet I sense that no such talk is forthcoming.”
Enid shrugged.
“Firstly, you make me sound like some naïve country bumpkin when you talk like that, and secondly, I learned a long time ago that pocketing some surplus stationary is, like, the most vanilla thing you could do. But the second rule, that’s the one that really stresses me out,” Enid explained with a wince.
“You are acting as if I bring home taxidermy projects every day.”
“I don’t care,” Enid squeaked, “they’re so creepy and sad looking and I don’t want them anywhere near my comforter and pillows, not on my throws or plushies either. I’m serious.”
Enid shivered just to think about it.
Wednesday hummed as she pulled the paper out of the typewriter, and Enid wasted no time in taking it from her, zooming over to her desk with a spring in her step despite the now late hour.
“What are you doing?” Wednesday asked, slightly confused.
“I’m making it pretty and presentable, obvi,” Enid said breezily, as if it was obvious.
“That is unnecessary, we can sign it as it is.”
“No way, gimme five minutes and it will be ready to go.”
Enid raided her drawers for supplies, oblivious to Wednesday watching her from her side of the room with Thing resting by her arm. Enid rummaged through her pencil case until she found the pink ink pen she wanted.
‘Oh yeah, this one will be great for my signature,’ she thought.
In Enid’s opinion, if Wednesday was going to insist on a roommate agreement, then it should at least reflect their personalities. Black and pink ink were in order, and she illustrated the borders with flowers and butterflies for her side, before drawing something suitably spooky and gothic that would suit Wednesday’s tastes. This included a cobweb for the top corner, a spider dangling from it, a skull, and a flower that even Wednesday would approve of.
“Stickers or no stickers?” she asked aloud.
“Wait, Enid, you do not need to-”
“You’re right, stickers will really bring it all together, thanks Wednesday!”
“You completely ignored what I was saying,” Wednesday replied, her tone low and gravelly.
“I just sense that your heart wants the stickers even if your brain tried to stop you,” joked Enid, and she leaned away from her desk to shoot Wednesday a wink.
Enid always felt a little mean when she winked at Wednesday because it seemed to unravel her roommate so thoroughly that Wednesday could barely look at her, but it was the same reason why she couldn’t give it up despite herself. Enid adored the way Wednesday reacted to her, and so Enid kept doing it. Her heart fluttered when Wednesday blinked, her dark and surprisingly soft eyes suddenly unsure where to look, and Enid told herself that this was perfectly normal.
‘It’s our thing,’ she thought.
“OK, all done!” Enid declared excitedly. “Come and sign this puppy.”
Wednesday walked once more to Enid’s side of the room, crossing the invisible line as she often found herself doing, and she glanced down to review the finalised agreement.
“I see you have underlined rule two, no taxidermy projects on your bedding. Have you not already made your point?”
“I am so serious, Wednesday, if I find another freaky dead animal on my pillow I’m going to crash out.”
“Duly noted.” Wednesday motioned towards the paper on the desk, her black pen in hand. “If I may?”
Enid nodded, craning around Wednesday’s shoulder as her friend underlined something before signing her name in her beautiful handwriting. There was something about Wednesday’s penmanship that Enid had always admired. As soon as Wednesday moved to allow Enid space to sign her own name Enid spotted the addition in telltale black ink where Wednesday had underlined in thick black strokes the final line of the agreement. It was more of an invitation than a rule, and Wednesday’s underline was almost – messy – as if Wednesday thought to do it at the last minute and didn’t want to think too much about it.
Unfortunately for Wednesday if the idea had been not to draw attention to it, it was now all that Enid could look at.
“Hmm…”
“Are you going to sign sometime this evening, Enid?” Wednesday asked sarcastically. “You know how tetchy Thing gets when his bedtime is moved back, although why a detached hand needs to sleep at all is beyond me.”
Somewhere across the room Thing stomped loudly.
Enid sighed, signing her name next to Wednesday’s using her pink pen, but when she had finished, she felt like something was missing, and she decided to add three hearts in purple, pink, and blue.
“There, all done,” Enid said cheerily.
“Very good.”
“Do you think we should, I dunno, laminate it?” Enid asked.
“Whatever for?”
“The last time you brought work back from the biology lab your ‘project’ hopped all over my stuff. Man, now that I think about it maybe I should have added live animals as well as taxidermy.”
“You should have thought of that before you signed,” Wednesday replied simply.
“Yeah, yeah,” Enid mumbled, “maybe it will look cute pinned to my board. Ooh, ooh, I know, I’ll get it framed. Won’t that be cute, Wednesday?”
Enid looked over her shoulder but Wednesday wasn’t there, she had already silently walked back to her side of the room to begin to undress for the night.
“If it pleases you, Enid,” she replied simply.
Enid held up the “formal agreement” to look at it, the rainbow sticker in the top corner looking especially pretty, but her eyes kept tracking downwards to that damn underline. The intentional placement of it was going to drive Enid mad, she just knew it, just as she knew asking Wednesday to explain her choice would be pure folly.
Neither roommate is required to admit they care about the other
… they care about the other …
Enid inhaled deeply, holding her breath to the count of ten before exhaling slowly until her lungs were completely empty. She placed the agreement back on her desk, lining it up to sit straight, her fingers dragging over Wednesday’s signature with an intentionality that she blamed on being sleepy, as if doing it without thinking was enough to explain away why her skin lingered over her best friend’s name.
Tiredness came for them both and they got ready for bed in their usual way with Wednesday using the bathroom first. By the time Enid was climbing into bed Wednesday’s light was already out, and Thing had tucked himself away in his chest. Enid liked to think that even though Wednesday had already turned off her light she waited for Enid anyway, the macabre and aloof girl noticing when Enid did not wish her good night, and so this was part of their routine too.
“Night Wednesday.”
“Terrible dreams, Enid.”
----- 🐦⬛🖤🩷 🐺 -----
OPHELIA HALL ROOMMATE AGREEMENT
BETWEEN Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair
Despite opposing aesthetics, sleep schedules, and attitudes toward human interaction, the undersigned agree to peacefully coexist.
RULES:
No cello practice after 10PM.
No taxidermy projects on Enid’s bedding.
Thing does not count as an additional guest.
Glitter must remain on Enid’s side of the room.
Wolfing out must be kept to the balcony.
Members of Enid’s wolf pack must leave by 9PM.
Wednesday begrudgingly agrees to handle all Eve of the Outcast duties in case of emergency.
Monster attacks are a shared responsibility.
Neither roommate is required to admit they care about the other.
SIGNED:
Wednesday Addams Enid Sinclair
----- 🐦⬛🖤🩷 🐺 -----
