Chapter Text
Wednesday Addams did not pace.
Pacing was what people did when their thoughts had escaped their control and begun driving their bodies around like poorly maintained vehicles.
Wednesday’s thoughts remained precisely where she kept them.
Ordered.
Contained.
Obedient.
She crossed the dormitory for the ninth time.
Enid watched her from the edge of her bed, arms folded tightly across her chest.
“You’re pacing.”
“I am considering the evidence from several advantageous positions.”
“You’ve been considering it from the window to my wardrobe for ten minutes.”
“The lighting near your wardrobe is superior.”
“It’s covered in fairy lights.”
“They illuminate guilt surprisingly well.”
Enid stared at her.
Wednesday stopped beside the darkened window, clasping her hands behind her back.
It had been five weeks.
Five weeks since Enid had begun disappearing every Tuesday and Thursday evening, frequently on Saturday afternoons and, on two particularly suspicious occasions, before breakfast.
She always returned smelling faintly of rosin, dust and the cedar-panelled corridors of Nevermore’s oldest academic wing.
She had developed a callus on the first finger of her left hand.
There were small red marks beneath her jaw.
She had begun stretching her wrists when she believed no one was watching.
Her search history had been deleted three times.
Most damningly, Enid had acquired a secretive smile.
It appeared whenever Wednesday asked where she had been, soft and private, as though Enid were carrying around a thought she enjoyed too much to share.
Wednesday despised that smile.
Not aesthetically.
Aesthetically, it was devastating.
She despised what it represented.
Someone else had put it there.
“You’re seeing someone,” Wednesday said.
Enid’s mouth fell open.
Again.
They had already been circling this accusation for seventeen minutes, but Enid continued reacting as though Wednesday had produced a fresh corpse each time.
“I am not seeing anyone!”
“You are regularly absent without explanation.”
“I explained it. I’m working.”
“On what?”
“A project.”
“What project?”
“A hard one.”
“That description possesses all the informative value of fog.”
Enid pushed herself off the bed.
“I told you at the beginning of the year that I wanted to commit to something difficult.”
“You also told me you intended to reorganise your wardrobe by emotional season. Your declarations vary greatly in significance.”
“My wardrobe system works.”
“You classified one jumper as ‘late spring optimism with an undercurrent of betrayal.’”
“It has uneven sleeves.”
“Precisely.”
Enid dragged both hands down her face.
“Wednesday, I am not dating anyone. I don’t have time for boys right now.”
“You found time for Ajax.”
“That was years ago.”
“And Bruno.”
“That wasn’t exactly dating.”
“You kissed him.”
“he left and that was last year!”
“A poor decisions either way.”
Enid’s eyes narrowed.
There it was.
The tiny change Wednesday had been monitoring all evening.
Enid’s shoulders drew back.
Her jaw tightened.
The gold in her blue eyes sharpened.
“I learnt from Ajax and Bruno,” Enid said. “Although I’m not sure why that’s any of your business.”
“It becomes my business when your questionable romantic judgement threatens the stability of our shared living environment.”
“My romantic judgement?”
“Ajax once accidentally stoned himself while brushing his teeth.”
“He was tired!”
“He was looking in the mirror.”
“He forgot his hat!”
“And Bruno considered cologne a substitute for bathing.”
“That was one time!”
“It was an entire weekend.”
Enid made a noise somewhere between a growl and a strangled scream.
Wednesday experienced a small, vicious flare of satisfaction.
Anger was preferable to evasion.
At least anger was honest.
“You have been sneaking away,” Wednesday continued. “You refuse to explain where you are going. You return at unusual hours with injuries you decline to discuss.”
“They’re not injuries.”
“The skin beneath your jaw was red last Thursday.”
Enid’s hand flew instinctively to her neck.
Wednesday’s stomach tightened.
Evidence.
“You noticed that?”
“I notice everything.”
Enid’s expression did something unhelpful.
It softened.
Only for a second.
Then suspicion returned.
“Have you been watching me?”
“I live with you. Observation is unavoidable.”
“You tried to have Agnes follow me.”
Wednesday’s face remained motionless.
“Agnes volunteered.”
“She said you offered to let her use your crossbow.”
“An unrelated incentive.”
“You told her to find out whether I was secretly meeting a boy!”
“I told her to identify any individuals involved in your unexplained activities.”
“You gave her a list of possible suspects!”
“Preparedness is not a crime.”
“You put Eugene on it!”
“He has become more confident.”
“He’s like my little brother!”
“Many disastrous relationships begin with misplaced familiarity.”
Enid stared at her for three silent seconds.
Then she pointed at Wednesday with enough force to qualify as a threat.
“You are unbelievable.”
“I have been told the evidence of my existence is occasionally difficult to accept.”
“Agnes told you the truth. She followed me. She saw me working on a project. She told you there were no boys involved.”
“Agnes has become your friend.”
“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”
“It compromises her objectivity.”
“Because she likes me?”
“Because she is susceptible to colourful stationery and praise.”
“You think she lied to you for stickers?”
“They were holographic.”
Enid’s eyebrows climbed almost to her hairline.
“You think I bribed Agnes with stickers to cover up a secret boyfriend?”
“The stickers may have been incidental.”
“There is no boyfriend!”
“Girlfriend, then.”
The word escaped before Wednesday could dissect it.
Silence dropped into the room.
Enid blinked.
Wednesday’s pulse gave one brutal strike against her ribs.
She had considered the possibility.
Repeatedly.
At length.
Usually at night, when Enid was sleeping six feet away and Wednesday’s imagination became particularly treacherous.
A faceless girl waiting in an empty classroom.
A hand touching Enid’s wrist.
Someone making Enid laugh.
Someone receiving the messages that caused Enid to smile down at her phone and turn the screen away.
The theoretical boyfriend had been irritating.
The theoretical girlfriend was intolerable.
Enid tilted her head.
“Girlfriend?”
“Your previous choices do not eliminate other possibilities.”
“No, they don’t.”
Wednesday’s fingernails pressed into her palms behind her back.
Enid watched her.
Too closely.
Then something like understanding began creeping into her expression.
Wednesday moved before it could fully form, crossing to her desk and rearranging three already aligned pencils.
“You think I’m secretly dating a girl.”
“I think secrecy generally indicates either romance, criminal activity or an embarrassing medical condition. Your recent behaviour lacks the competence required for crime.”
Enid let out a disbelieving laugh.
It was not a pleasant laugh.
It was sharp and breathless and hurt.
“You know what? This is insane.”
“Your refusal to answer basic questions is what created this situation.”
“No. You created this situation because you decided I must be lying to you.”
“You are lying to me.”
“I’m keeping one thing private!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s mine!”
The volume struck Wednesday before the words did.
Enid had shouted.
Enid raised her voice frequently in excitement, outrage and theatrical despair, but this was different.
This had teeth.
A door opened somewhere in the corridor.
Wednesday heard footsteps pause outside their dorm.
Neither of them looked toward it.
“You don’t get to know everything just because you’ve decided you should,” Enid said.
“I have never demanded everything.”
“You searched my desk.”
“I moved a notebook.”
“You checked underneath it.”
“The underside was suspiciously elevated.”
“It was on top of another notebook!”
“A crude concealment method.”
“You questioned Yoko.”
“She folded immediately.”
“Because you threatened to expose her online shopping history!”
“She purchased a coffin-shaped drinks cabinet and had it delivered to Bianca’s room.”
“It was a birthday present!”
“Bianca’s birthday is in March.”
“She was planning ahead!”
A muffled whisper came from outside.
“Is that Wednesday shouting?”
Bianca.
Another whisper answered.
“I think they’re both shouting.”
Ajax.
“Should we intervene?”
Eugene.
“No.”
Yoko sounded delighted.
“Absolutely not.”
Enid’s gaze flicked toward the door.
Her cheeks flushed.
“Great. Now everyone is listening.”
“They should leave.”
Nobody moved outside.
Wednesday raised her voice.
“Leave.”
The footsteps remained precisely where they were.
“We can’t hear you,” Ajax called through the door.
Bianca hissed, “Idiot.”
Enid closed her eyes.
“This is humiliating.”
“Then tell me what you have been doing.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because it was supposed to be a surprise!”
The answer hit Wednesday like a blade entering between ribs.
“A surprise for whom?”
Enid froze.
Wednesday felt the room narrow.
There.
The hesitation.
Small.
Fatal.
“For whom, Enid?”
Enid looked away.
Wednesday’s control cracked along a seam so fine no one else would have recognised it.
Her voice dropped.
“Who are you doing this for?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It clearly matters to you.”
“Yes, it matters to me!”
“Then say their name.”
“I can’t!”
“Because I know them?”
“Wednesday, stop.”
“Is it someone at Nevermore?”
“Stop.”
“A student?”
“I said stop.”
“A teacher?”
Enid’s face changed.
Barely.
But Wednesday saw it.
She always saw it.
“Isadora Capri,” Wednesday said.
Enid went pale.
Wednesday’s stomach turned to ice.
Professor Capri taught orchestral music and composition. She was thirty, elegant, dark-haired, accomplished and infuriatingly fond of tailored waistcoats. She had performed with three internationally renowned orchestras before accepting Nevermore’s appointment.
She was also unmarried.
“Are you serious?” Enid whispered.
“You have been spending your evenings in the music wing.”
“Oh my God.”
“Capri’s classroom is in the oldest section of that building.”
“You cannot actually think that.”
“You smell of the cedar used in its wall panelling.”
“You smelt the walls?”
“I investigated the corridor.”
“Of course you did!”
“The marks on your neck are consistent with concealed physical contact.”
Enid’s eyes went enormous.
Then furious.
“Physical contact?”
“Your left fingertips are callused.”
“I cannot believe this.”
“Your secrecy leaves little room for charitable interpretation.”
“Charitable?”
“You have already demonstrated vulnerability to attention from conventionally attractive people with limited emotional substance.”
Professor Capri possessed considerable emotional substance, but Wednesday refused to amend the statement.
Enid stared at her as though she had become something unrecognisable.
That hurt more than Wednesday expected.
“You think I’m having some secret relationship with a teacher?”
“I think you are concealing something involving her.”
“And instead of trusting me, you had Agnes follow me, interrogated our friends and started stalking the music corridor?”
“I did not stalk anyone.”
“What would you call it?”
“Reconnaissance.”
“Of course you would.”
Enid turned away.
Wednesday saw her shoulders trembling.
Something ugly and unfamiliar moved beneath Wednesday’s sternum.
She had imagined Enid embarrassed.
Defensive.
Perhaps reluctantly impressed by the thoroughness of Wednesday’s deductions.
She had not imagined this.
Enid looked wounded.
Wednesday could tolerate Enid’s anger.
She could not tolerate being its cause.
“I did not enter the classroom,” Wednesday said.
Enid laughed again, but there was no humour in it.
“Congratulations on respecting one boundary.”
“I could have found out what you were doing.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Wednesday’s answer rose immediately.
Because the thought of Enid discovering her snooping had been unbearable.
Because Enid’s anger mattered.
Because five weeks ago, Wednesday had stood outside the music wing with lock picks in her pocket and imagined Enid looking at her with betrayal in those bright blue eyes.
She had turned around.
Wednesday Addams had abandoned an investigation because she was afraid.
Not of punishment.
Not of discovery.
Of hurting Enid.
“I chose to confront you directly,” Wednesday said.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only one you require.”
“No, it’s the only one you’re willing to give.”
Enid turned back.
Her eyes were shining now.
Wednesday hated that too.
She hated everything about this conversation except Enid herself, which was increasingly the central problem.
“You don’t trust me,” Enid said.
“I trust you in numerous circumstances.”
“Numerous circumstances?”
“In combat. In emergencies. In matters involving emotional intuition, colour coordination and the identification of poisoned food.”
“Wow. I’m honoured.”
“You have previously concealed romantic developments.”
“For a few days! Because I knew you would act exactly like this!”
“Your previous partners were demonstrably inadequate.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“It should have been.”
Enid went completely still.
The corridor beyond the door had fallen silent.
Even Yoko had stopped whispering.
Enid’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Why?”
Wednesday’s throat tightened.
“Because your judgement was compromised.”
“No. Why should it have been your decision?”
“Because I knew you better than they did.”
“That doesn’t give you ownership of my life.”
“I never claimed ownership.”
“You’re acting like I’ve betrayed you by having a secret that might involve dating someone.”
“You have spent five weeks leaving without explanation.”
“And you’ve spent five weeks obsessing over it!”
“I have not been obsessing.”
“You memorised the smell of a hallway!”
“It was distinctive.”
“You noticed marks under my jaw.”
“They were visible.”
“They were tiny!”
“To you.”
Enid’s breath caught.
Wednesday realised too late what she had admitted.
To Wednesday, nothing about Enid was tiny enough to escape notice.
Not the faint shadows beneath her eyes when she had slept poorly.
Not the way she rubbed her left thumb across her fingertips when anxious.
Not the specific smile she wore when replying to her mother rather than one of her brothers.
Not the gradual fading of pink from the ends of her hair.
Not the fact that she now hummed scales while showering.
Not the small pieces of medical tape in the wastebasket.
Not the secret joy Enid had carried for five weeks and refused to share with her.
Enid took one step closer.
“Why do you care so much?”
Wednesday said nothing.
The correct answers crowded behind her teeth.
Because Enid belonged in this room.
Because the thought of someone drawing her away made Wednesday feel flayed.
Because Wednesday had survived serial killers, monsters and a stalker, yet Enid returning ten minutes late could turn every thought in her head into a crime scene.
Because someone else touching the red marks beneath Enid’s jaw had replayed in Wednesday’s mind until violence became soothing.
Because she had already lost Enid once.
Because she could not do it again.
Enid shook her head.
“No. Seriously. Why the fuck do you care anyway?”
Wednesday flinched.
Enid’s anger surged ahead of her judgement.
“It’s not like you care about me!”
The words struck the room and shattered.
Enid’s expression collapsed immediately.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh God. Wednesday, I didn’t mean that.”
Something inside Wednesday tore free.
“I don’t just care about you!”
Her voice cracked through the dormitory.
Outside, someone gasped.
Enid stopped breathing.
Wednesday could no longer stop.
“I am in love with you!”
Silence.
Absolute.
Devastating.
Wednesday stood in the centre of the room with her hands clenched at her sides and the ruins of three years of denial scattered around her feet.
Enid stared at her.
Beyond the door, a floorboard creaked.
Wednesday turned her head very slowly.
“If anyone outside that door speaks,” she said, her voice frighteningly calm once more, “I will remove their tongue through their ear.”
There was a rapid shuffling sound.
Nobody actually left.
Cowards.
Enid’s lips parted.
“You’re…”
Wednesday looked back at her.
Enid’s anger had vanished.
So had most of the colour in her face.
“You’re in love with me?”
“I believe I articulated it clearly.”
“You shouted it.”
“You were being obtuse.”
“In front of everyone.”
“They were eavesdropping. Their presence was not invited.”
“You love me.”
Wednesday’s jaw tightened.
“Repeating it will not improve its accuracy.”
A strange sound escaped Enid.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
Wednesday’s fury drained away, leaving her exposed and nauseated.
Enid took another step toward her.
Then stopped.
“I wasn’t dating anyone.”
Wednesday looked at the floor.
“I am aware my conclusion may have contained minor inaccuracies.”
“Minor?”
“Do not become insufferable. This evening has already been sufficiently degrading.”
Enid wiped quickly beneath one eye.
“The marks on my neck weren’t from someone touching me.”
Wednesday said nothing.
Enid swallowed.
Then she crossed to her bed, crouched and reached underneath it.
Wednesday heard a scrape.
A long black case emerged.
Wednesday recognised its shape before Enid placed it on the mattress.
A violin case.
Her mind rapidly reorganised five weeks of evidence.
Rosin.
Callused fingertips.
The left wrist stretches.
The marks beneath Enid’s jaw.
The smell of the music wing.
Professor Isadora Capri.
Enid opened the case.
Inside lay a violin of warm amber wood, its surface gleaming beneath the coloured lights.
Wednesday stared.
Enid touched it with obvious care.
“Professor Capri has been teaching me.”
“You are learning the violin.”
“Trying to.”
“Why?”
Enid’s cheeks turned pink.
Her fingers hovered above the instrument without quite touching the strings.
“Because this year’s talent show allows duets.”
Wednesday’s heart, already behaving with appalling recklessness, stopped altogether.
Enid looked at her.
“I wanted to ask you to play with me.”
Wednesday could not speak.
“I know I’m nowhere near your level,” Enid continued hurriedly. “I know five weeks isn’t much, and Professor Capri says I’m learning quickly, but she also says enthusiasm is not a substitute for bow control, which felt personally targeted. I started early because I wanted enough time to get good. Or at least not terrible.”
“You were doing this for the talent show.”
Enid gave a small nod.
“With me.”
Another nod.
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Wednesday looked at the violin again.
Every jealous, ugly theory she had constructed collapsed beneath the weight of something infinitely more dangerous.
Enid had spent five weeks hurting her fingers for her.
Enid had sneaked through corridors before breakfast for her.
Enid had chosen an instrument capable of standing beside Wednesday’s cello and had begun learning it in secret because she wanted to make music with her.
Wednesday felt suddenly unsteady.
“You deleted your search history,” she said.
Enid’s mouth twitched.
“It was full of things like ‘easy violin duets for cello’ and ‘how long before violin stops sounding like dying cat.’”
“The answer to the second question varies.”
“I know. Capri laughed for five full minutes.”
Wednesday moved closer to the bed.
“What piece?”
Enid hesitated.
Then reached into the case and removed a folded sheet of music.
She handed it over.
Wednesday unfolded it.
Her own handwritten annotations covered the cello part.
Enid must have taken the original from Wednesday’s practice folder and photocopied it weeks ago.
It was one of Wednesday’s compositions.
A piece she had never performed publicly.
One she had written during the previous summer, after Enid had left Nevermore believing Wednesday no longer wanted her there.
A melody built around absence.
Around waiting.
Around the unbearable relief of someone returning.
Wednesday looked up sharply.
“How did you find this?”
“You played part of it one night.”
“You were asleep.”
“I was pretending.”
“Why?”
“Because you stop when you know I’m listening.”
An accusation Wednesday could not dispute.
Enid looked down at the violin.
“I thought it needed another voice.”
“It was composed for solo cello.”
“I know.”
“You altered it.”
“Professor Capri helped.”
Wednesday examined the pages again.
A violin line had been written above her cello part.
It did not overpower the original melody.
It answered it.
Where the cello descended, the violin reached after it.
Where the cello became quiet, the violin waited.
Then, in the final passage, the two lines came together.
Not identical.
Not competing.
Choosing harmony.
Wednesday’s vision blurred at the edges.
“It’s called ‘The Empty Room,’” Enid said softly. “But I thought maybe, when we played it together, you could rename it.”
Wednesday raised her eyes.
Enid stood only a few feet away, vulnerable and hopeful and still carrying the remnants of their argument across her face.
“What would you suggest?” Wednesday asked.
Enid’s smile was small.
“The Room You Came Back To.”
Wednesday folded the music carefully.
Outside the door, someone made a suspicious choking noise.
Wednesday ignored them.
For now.
“You screamed that I did not care about you,” she said.
Enid winced.
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“It was cruel.”
“I know.”
“And inaccurate.”
“Very inaccurate, apparently.”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes.
Enid’s mouth trembled as she fought a smile.
Wednesday stepped closer.
“I have spent five weeks contemplating the removal of an unidentified romantic rival.”
“There wasn’t one.”
“I know that now.”
“You were jealous.”
“I was conducting a threat assessment.”
“You thought Professor Capri was seducing me.”
“She wears too many waistcoats for her intentions to be trusted.”
Enid laughed.
A real laugh this time.
Soft and warm and entirely for Wednesday.
The secret smile.
Wednesday finally understood it.
She had put it there without knowing.
Enid looked down at their hands.
“You said you’re in love with me.”
Wednesday considered escape.
The window was accessible.
The drop would not kill her.
Unfortunately, Enid could move faster.
“I did.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Unlike you, I do not scream false declarations during arguments.”
“That is absolutely not an answer.”
“It is the only one you require.”
“Wednesday.”
Wednesday looked into her eyes.
“Yes.”
The word barely left her lips.
Enid’s fingers touched hers.
Not taking.
Asking.
Wednesday turned her hand and threaded their fingers together.
Outside the dormitory, several people erupted into muffled celebration.
Yoko hissed, “Pay up.”
Bianca replied, “Nobody has officially kissed.”
“Hands count.”
“Hands do not count.”
“They count to me,” Ajax whispered.
Wednesday walked to the door without releasing Enid’s hand.
She opened it.
Bianca, Yoko, Ajax, Eugene and Agnes tumbled into the room in a heap of limbs and failed dignity.
Wednesday looked down at them.
Agnes beamed up from beneath Eugene’s elbow.
“I didn’t lie about the boys!”
“No,” Wednesday said. “You merely withheld strategically relevant information.”
“Enid gave me holographic raven stickers.”
Wednesday slowly turned her head.
Enid gave her an apologetic smile.
“They were really good stickers.”
Wednesday looked back at Agnes.
“Acceptable.”
Bianca pushed herself upright.
“So.”
“No,” Wednesday said.
“I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“You were going to.”
“Are you two together now?”
Enid looked at Wednesday.
Wednesday looked at Enid.
Their hands remained joined between them.
“I believe,” Wednesday said carefully, “further discussion is required.”
Enid’s smile faltered.
Wednesday tightened her fingers around hers.
“In private.”
Enid’s smile returned brighter than before.
Yoko groaned.
“That means kissing.”
“It does not necessarily mean kissing,” Bianca said.
“Twenty says they kiss before midnight.”
“Thirty says before we reach the stairs.”
Wednesday began closing the door.
Ajax lifted his head.
“Are you still doing the talent show?”
The door stopped.
Enid looked at Wednesday.
All the excitement in her face became uncertain again.
Wednesday glanced toward the violin.
Her secret song.
Their song.
“You will require considerable practice,” Wednesday said.
Enid’s shoulders sank.
Then Wednesday continued.
“Our rehearsal schedule begins tomorrow at six.”
Enid lit up.
“In the morning?”
“Naturally.”
“I love you too.”
Wednesday froze.
The corridor went silent again.
Enid’s eyes widened, but this time she did not try to take the words back.
Wednesday stared at her.
Then she pulled Enid inside and shut the door in their friends’ faces.
Yoko’s triumphant voice travelled through the wood.
“Before the stairs! Pay me!”
Wednesday locked the door.
When she turned around, Enid was still smiling.
The violin rested open on the bed.
Their music lay beside it.
And for the first time in five weeks, Wednesday no longer feared the secret Enid had been keeping.
She crossed the room, placed one hand against Enid’s cheek and kissed her before anyone outside could revise the terms of the wager.