Archive of Our Own

It doesn’t take long for these sorts of conversations to start. It hardly takes a day in fact.

In true horror tradition - it’s a double feature.

Wednesday had pulled it from Enid with unpracticed ease. It wasn’t that she was looking for the vulnerability summarily hefted into her possession. In fact, she tended to outright despise these emotional tirades entirely. Perhaps this bit of her less than warm disposition could be blamed for the absence of tact in asking without a hint of that warmth she so lacked ‘why are you crying’. Unfortunately, it did little to dissuade Enid from laying down her truth at Wednesday’s feet as if she hadn’t given her new roommate every reason to believe that her response would be to stomp down and press right into it.

But she hadn’t. Not intentionally at least. Granted, it had been received but a hair more favorably than had she done just that. But still. That was something.

And because it hadn’t been enough for her to tolerate Enid’s unnecessary displays of weakness emotion, Wednesday had gone and bared her own history. What had come upon her, she certainly could not have said. Many had tried before, to prompt her laying down of swords by abandoning their own, and she had never been so easily swayed. She’d never fallen prey to it. All it took was a tear stained look from an overly bright stranger and a confession void of attached expectations, and she had spilled her guts as messily as the crooked priest in Budapest three years prior. But what had been a beautiful flush of crimson splattered across stone then was but a tinge painted across the bridge of her nose now.

It had been a misstep. She knew without reservation the moment she succumbed to it, and did not let the conviction of that knowledge waiver.

Until she had.

It only took the security of leaving Enid forever behind for her to admit that she had been wrong. A confession made without fear of consequence. It is easy enough to let oneself be seen with the comfort of knowing that you’d never be at risk of it again.

She had set her shoulders and forced the words from her lips clear and sure, her heart hammering in her chest throughout the ordeal. Enid, was a friend. She could admit it now. To herself, and in more veiled words, to Enid herself. But more - she could admit that she had stumbled on her own, had gotten it wrong, had need and then found help, and only then succeeded. What she had always believed to be a weakness, while still very much rife with room to be taken advantage of, could just as well be strength. And Enid, of the few people she had let herself collect, who had in turn collected her, stood paramount. No amount of begging, bartering, or bloodshed could remove Enid from her life in totality. This parting of their’s would certainly serve as a finality to many things. Their cohabitation, the sharing of mealtimes, some leisure activities, bonding rituals… and likely their friendship altogether. Wednesday hardly did relationships to begin with. She most certainly could not entertain attempting to maintain such a feeble bond across state lines. No, this would be the end. And so Enid deserved to know, deserved the truth, that despite the end of so many things, Wednesday would never be free of her. There was a piece of her that would remain forever changed and the scars would wind deep into her psyche and bear Enid’s name alone.

Enid deserved to know. And so Wednesday had told her.

Life, fate, the universe, whatever… it had never looked kindly upon her. And so, naturally, the security of peace - of removing herself from Enid’s life, and thus Enid from hers - had been ripped away by her own hand. An unfortunate consequence of an otherwise necessary act. Wednesday was many things, and obnoxiously stubborn was one of them. She usually enjoyed that. Determination had been her undoing more times than she cared to inspect, and it would likely be the raging finale this time, but still - stubborn. She had looked the easy road in the eyes and laughed and life, fate, the universe, whatever… had laughed harder.

She’d almost died. Twice.

It had been a busy night.

But it hadn’t been her near-death that had swept in with all the grace of a hurricane upon landfall to rip her inhibitions from her clutch.

Because Enid had almost died. Once. But still - she didn’t much care for that.

And Enid, as she had so recently confessed, mattered. They had been friends. And Wednesday supposed that, freshly un-expelled and Nevermore still standing, they still were.

It had been a busy night for them both.

Which was why when Enid, covered only in drying blood, forrest soil, and a pink coat, stumbled forward from the concerned student body, Wednesday hadn’t sidestepped the embrace. What was that word her old therapist had used once? Trauma bonded? Yes… that felt fitting. It had, as she kept reminding herself, been a remarkably busy night. And trauma had most certainly been several parts of it. They had shouldered the trauma of cohabitation, friendship, and now an attempted genocide and unmasking of a monstrous serial killer. So Wednesday had let her friend hug her. She had tried, very much so in fact, to leave it at that. To let the bond form one way.

But Enid had almost died. Once.

That wouldn’t do.

She’d left a mark on her after all.

So Wednesday had hugged her back.

It may not have been verbalized, but the intent had been loud just as well. She had been scared. She had feared. Not for herself. Death was only to be embraced by an Addams, and Wednesday would do no less than to greet it as an equal. But Enid. Enid was not her equal. She was coming to realize this, and so too must Death. Wednesday could not allow it. Would not allow it. Life, fate, the universe, whatever… it had no business with Enid. Because she had left a mark on Wednesday. And Wednesday refused to wear those scars in memorium. She would, however, hold Enid against her, in view of anyone who dared to look, and refuse to let anything less than the full weight of her relief and gratitude wash over her.

It hadn’t taken a hyde, nor a bigoted trojan horse, for Wednesday to know that something inside of her had changed. Had been changing for some time. She was studious after all, a quality that extended not only externally, but inwards as well. She had learned from a very young age how to master her own pain, how to turn her physical shortcomings to strength with skill and blade, how to build tolerance to a spread of toxins, poisons, venoms, how to bend her emotions to her will until they hardly resembled them at all. She knew when something was off. And something had been off for months.

Emotions, petty things, hardly worth all the syllables in the word, let alone her time. And yet, all that careful work over a decade, the mastery, was hardly a match for whatever it was burning fire through her. She hated that she loved it. It was detestable. She wanted it gone.

Winter break had come early. After all she had endured over her limited time in that school over the fall, little compared to this change. She had embraced the premature pause in her education. Better to address these things from the privacy of her own home. In her solitude.

But she didn’t do emotions. Solitude did little to help a problem she didn’t have the capacity to understand, let alone correct. There were resources, naturally. Her family home had a vast collection of books - some bound by animal hide, human flesh, a few unfortunate outliers cloth - water damaged, smoke stained, peeled, torn, pristine. She could find a text penned in nearly any language current or otherwise. She’d spent most of her youth scouring the various collections, following from one fascination to another. She’d taken a particular interest in the Bermuda Triangle for a period of time. There still sat two books, long since abandoned, somewhere in her bedroom on the topic, along with one on hydrodynamics, and another two on anatomy. She should recover them at some point and return them.

It should be easy for her to find what she needed somewhere in such a sprawling collection. There should be something, anything. But three weeks into the break had left her more than a bit frazzled, and every shelf in the house picked through. Not a single line. Not one.

For the first time in her life, she had found herself disappointed in her family’s libraries.

There were, of course, other resources at her disposal. Two such resources, if she must be specific.

But there were still lows she was not willing to stoop to for the sake of a solution to her problem. She would not drag herself into her father’s study, nor her mother’s greenhouse, to confess herself lost. To tell them that she had feelings she could not understand. To lay out her emotional weakness for them to swan around like overeager puppies. She would never hear the end of it. And worse - it would only encourage them in the future.

The outside world was not a place she sought much from. It provided her with a killing floor, a steady supply of fresh corpses to examine, a proving ground for her criminal tendencies, and on occasion, amusement at the expense of others. It did not provide her with help.

And yet, she had depleted every option afforded to her within her home, at least those she was willing to acknowledge.

The phone had sat ignored. There had been a mild interest in it at first. She’d even gone so far as to send Lurch to fetch a charging device for the thing. She’d never had a stalker before, and the prospect of one had been enthralling, if not ultimately disappointing when follow through had failed to materialize. She’d grown bored. And the phone had been set aside without a thought. For weeks.

She stared down at the black reflection of her face and pressed her thumb into the power button and waited. Within minutes she was staring down at the message app, a slew of unread text messages awaiting her - all delivered in the weeks since she’d last checked it. Xavier, of course, had left more than she cared for. Enid had left a greater number yet. She was not so put off by it.

It took her just shy of a quarter of an hour before she worked up the nerve to send the message, instantly tossing the phone aside on her bed, irritated by her actions already. This wasn’t her. She didn’t do this. Any of it. The phone, the texts, the -

The phone dinged at her and she wanted to set it on fire.

Enid Sinclair: OMG WEDNESDAY!!!! I never thought I would hear back from you!

Just because she did not favor this form of communication did not mean she was ignorant to the stereotypes regarding its use. She wanted to be relieved that Enid had formed a full sentence, but the use of capitalization, horrid overuse of punctuation, and of course ‘OMG’ was enough to offset that relief.

The phone dinged again, buzzing in her hand.

Enid Sinclair: What’s up? You said you needed to talk?

She contemplated drafting a response, but the longer she stared down at it, the more she regretted trying to engage in this way.

In a rush of indecision, she swiped madly at the screen, just trying to get it to go away for now. But she was not accustomed to this wretched thing and it did not seem to care much for her. How did she know this? Besides a strong gut feeling - the damned thing somehow started what Enid would soon explain was a video call. Wednesday refused to entertain such a childish phrase as “FaceTime”.

“Not gonna lie, I didn’t think you knew how to FaceTime.”

Enid stared up at her from the screen and all that instant regret from a moment before spun up and out of control and Wednesday nearly pressed the little red button on the screen in hopes that she could end this nonsense before she really regretted this.

But that would have been the intellectual response, and Wednesday, while usually self-described as such, clearly had lost all reason and sense.

“I don’t. This was a mistake.” And then after the fall of what had been a truly startling smile, Wednesday amended it. “However, if you are available, perhaps we could discuss the matter anyways.”

The brightness in her smile didn’t quite return to its original intensity, but Wednesday could only believe that to be necessary for her to do this. She was relieved to see that it returned to a degree though.

“Who do you think you called? Like I’d turn down a chance to catch up? Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten all about me?”

That indelible mark, the one that left not a single physical trace but clawed at her just as well, screamed at her.

“Enid. I believe I already made it painfully clear that I could never forget you.” A flush swept over Enid’s features and Wednesday told herself it was a trick of the camera. “I had hoped you would be able to give me some information.”

“Yeah, sure, whatcha wanna know?”

She glanced away, considered if she really was going to open this can of worms, and then decided that it would only eat away at her if she didn’t. “Your relationship with Ajax. Could you describe your emotional state over the course of the courtship stages?”

“What?” She looked back to find Enid staring at her as if she had sprouted two more heads and maybe some gills. As convenient as gills might be, she knew this was of course not why Enid was staring at her in such a way. She really hoped she would not need to provide any sort of explanation for why she was asking for such information. “I um… you hate talking about this kind of stuff.” And then thinking better of it, Enid tacked on, “unless it involves some sort of threat against him.”

She stared, refusing the urge to blink, and only failed once. Enid stared back and for a second Wednesday genuinely worried that she would cave.

“Fine… I guess I can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Which was how Wednesday found herself staring into an annoying small screen for the next two hours, listening to Enid tell her every little detail of their relationship, most far from relevant to her actual question and even more bordering on uncomfortable to hear, only for Enid to drop what should have been the first piece of information at the end. She and Ajax had broken up. A week ago.

And because of the unfortunate timing of the revelation, Enid had been called down from her room for dinner, leaving Wednesday without an answer, and with several more questions. And confusingly, lighter in mood.

Enid had tried to call her back the following day. And the day after. And on and on until eventually she stopped. Not so much because she got tired, or Wednesday answered, but because spring term had finally rolled around.

Wednesday had allowed another hug. She had desperately wanted to turn her away. Had needed to. But given the manner in which she had knowingly ignored all of Enid’s attempts at resuming contact over break, she reasoned it was an appropriate concession.

Enid had squeezed her like she were a cow off to slaughter. And then she’d shoved her, quite forcefully actually, with a downturned mouth and a proper scolding. Wednesday had apologized with a simple “sorry”, and had even somewhat meant it.

The break had not done much to temper her emotional confusion, nor the actual emotion itself. It had lingered, taunting. It was all insistence and resilience. Wednesday had grown only to hate it more. But it was a wild beast, and that only proved to feed the damned thing because as days ticked by, she found herself falling further into its crutches. This alone would be concerning. But it had been swift and unrelenting, but also revealing. She was certain. There had been a testing suspicion already - hence her inquiry with Enid - but now it stood before her undeniable. These feelings revolved around Enid. And only Enid.

Two weeks into the spring semester, Enid had broached the topic again. Quite casually. Wednesday wished she had just thrown an axe at her instead.

“Soooo, we ever going to talk about why you were asking me about Ajax?”

Wednesday’s fingers clenched around the wood, trying to ignore the creak it made under the strain. Carefully, she unfurled her fingers and set the last sheet in its cavity, and shut it with finality. If only Enid hadn’t waited for her writing time to end, she would have had a convenient excuse to ignore the question.

“No.”

Enid looked unthwarted, which probably meant that she wasn’t. Unfortunate.

“Hmm, well, if you asked me.” She hadn’t. “Which I know you aren’t.” Astute observation. She should leave it at that, but Wednesday doubted she would. “I’d guess that maybe you have a crush on someone new?”

New? That implied there had already been one, which she could say without hesitation there most certainly had not.

Catching the confused look, Enid asked, “Tyler?”

Oh right. Him.

“I never had an interest in Tyler. He was merely a means to an end.”

It was mostly true. She had not had any sort of attraction to him. But there had been a part of her that had considered him a friend. At least a reliable resource. She had been foolish.

“Oh.” Enid shuffled uncomfortably and at least now they were on the same footing. “I just thought… well, never mind him then. But, you didn’t deny having a crush! Ooh, who is it? Wait! Let me guess… It’s not Xavier is it?”

She feltl the look on her face before she could even realize that she had made one at all.

“Ouch, okay, so not Xavier.”

If even Enid thought he had a shot in hell at courting her, she really needed to make it abundantly clear, and immediately so, that she would sooner flay herself alive and personally feed strips of her flesh to the vultures that frequented the east tower.

“You’ve said Eugene reminds me of your brother, and he is too young, so obviously not him…” One failed attempt at guessing hadn’t put her off it seemed. Shame. “It’s not like… Kent, right?”

“Who is Kent?”

At least that got a laugh. She could be funny. But, honestly, she really had not a clue who Kent was. She also didn’t care.

“Oh my god, please tell me it isn’t Ajax!”

The face she made most certainly was not as bad as she had when Xavier had been suggested, but it apparently still got the point across.

“Enid… please stop guessing.”

There had been only more attempt, three and a half weeks later. Wednesday had been nearly as annoyed by it as she had been when she discovered why Enid had asked. Because Enid was happy. Enid was happy because she had a date. With another wolf, a transfer student. Wednesday fought the urge to hurl herself off their balcony when Enid spent twenty five minutes telling her every boring piece of information she could about her potential new relationship.

This new development had served as some reminder, unfortunately, of their unresolved discussion surrounding Wednesday’s crush (she truly despised that word - though it did make her want to crush many things and then maybe herself). Wednesday had shut that line of questioning down about as quickly as Enid had run it.

If there was one benefit to Enid’s newly revived dating life, it was her distracted state. And a bit more peace in their dorm room. It was really becoming a problem, that proximity. It did her no favors, and far too many for the longing in her chest. Maybe she’d toss herself off the balcony after all.

The date had gone well, and Wednesday had tried to be happy. Happy was too strong a word. She had tried to be reasonably supportive. Enid had taken her threats in stride. ‘If he hurts you, I won’t hesitate to source more piranhas, and I won’t settle for one testicle this time.’

The rest of the semester had been supernaturally uneventful, and emotionally torturous. Enid continued to date the wolf boy. Wednesday continued to pretend that she didn’t care.

It was nearly a gift when summer came bounding in with its horrid sun and heat and she returned once more to her family home in New Jersey. She’d almost been glad for it.

Almost.

She ignored Enid’s texts and calls. Again.

She tried to ignore the pain she felt every morning when she woke up and realized that she’d dreamt of something impossible yet again. She tried to excuse it, to reason with it, to beg for absolution.

And every morning. Every. Single. Morning. She woke up defeated.

She missed Enid.

She stopped ignoring the phone calls.

Enid still talked about the boy. Wednesday still refused to learn his name. Which she now felt vindicated in doing because as it turned out, he had proven to be a rather disappointing boyfriend. Enid had called her on three separate occasions crying, telling Wednesday what terrible thing he had done recently. Cruel comments about her choice of style, threatening to break up with her when she declined his invitation to visit over the summer - her mother refusing to let her stay with another pack they didn’t know, an incident where he had or hadn’t - it was still unclear - kissed someone else at a party. She detested him. Enid had, sadly, refused to take her up on her offer and he regrettably kept both testicles. For now.

And then a week before they were due to return to Vermont once more, Enid called her crying once more. But this time it was not to share some new infraction her boyfriend had committed, but to share the news that the relationship had ended. Enid had woken up and just decided she was done.

Wednesday had been relieved.

And proud.

She’d said as much.

By halfway through fall of their junior year, Wednesday no longer needed the aide of books, or her parents, or Enid to explain what was happening to her. She’d long since accepted that she had developed romantic feelings for Enid. A crush. It had been mostly manageable. Not at all in her ability to rid herself of it, but she had been able to more or less ignore it in the day to day. She still spent an hour a day working on her novel, she and Bianca dominated the fencing club, Eugene spent three afternoons a week holed up in the bee shed with her, her studies progressed. She rarely let herself slip into the brief reprieves from her self-appointed mental blockades. Once a day, for five minutes, she let herself feel, unencumbered. And then she would pack it away. It was the only way she’d gotten through the last semester, forced to listen to Enid regale her of her new relationship, forced to bear witness to their public displays, and several private ones in which Wednesday had seen far too much rather horrifying kissing.

But that little seed, starved and dehydrated and ignored, had found a way to sprout, to breach through concrete and flourish.

Despite her best efforts, and everything she had ever sworn to herself, to her parents, Wednesday had fallen in love.

It fucking sucked.

She told no one.

She wanted to tell Enid. Enid was her best friend, a concession she had made somewhere along the way but no longer remembered where. But this, of all things, she could not share. Enid could never know.

Enid, however, wore her new title as ‘Wednesday Addams’ best friend’ with pride and was seemingly determined to live up to it unflinchingly. And so she shared. Everything.

Wednesday knew when Enid had forgotten she had an allergy to shellfish and had intervened in time to prevent catastrophe. Wednesday knew how Enid had named every stuffed animal, which ones were her favorite, and that she rotated which one stayed in her bed at night based on a very precise schedule so as to prevent any favoritism. Wednesday knew when Enid accidentally gave herself food poisoning after trying to cook (despite several people saying she should not be in any sort of proximity to a kitchen) and had helped her through two straight days of vomiting. Wednesday knew that Enid had a secret social media account, a ‘finsta’ as she’d called it, where she posted various bits of artwork, but only after showing Wednesday, and only Wednesday, first to see what she thought of it. Wednesday knew that Enid sometimes would have nightmares, and Wednesday would spend an hour talking it over and calming her down from the floor beside her bed. Wednesday knew that every time Enid shared something else, she loved her more.

It should have been no surprise then, when Enid decided to address something else new, that she would first tell Wednesday. She shouldn’t have been surprised when this new bit of information came flying out of her mouth, far too loud, and nearly all one word - as these sorts of confessions tended to go - the moment Wednesday returned from checking on the bees. Enid had a thing about catching her off guard. And most of the time, Wednesday took it in stride.

But this particular confession, for once, ripped the rug right out from under her, and she had no choice but to let gravity have its way.

“Ithinkimightbebi.”

Wednesday closed the door behind her, walked a few feet over to her desk, and then turned around.

“What?”

Enid looked positively terrified. Wednesday screamed at herself not to let it get to her. Not to give in. Not to go to Enid and press herself into her, not to wrap her arms around her shoulders, not to promise that whatever was wrong, she would do anything to fix it. The still rational part of her mind listened, but her hands ached to reach, to touch, to sooth, and so she let them fidget. Enid noticed.

“Oh god, oh my god. Shit shit. Please don’t think I’m a freak.”

“Enid.” Damnit. She was loosing. She’d already taken two steps closer. “I’m not even sure what it was you said.”

Somehow, that did little to quell the worry. If anything Enid looked worse. “I don’t think I can say it again.” She bent over, hand on her knees, breath shaky and uneven.

She really was loosing. Wednesday took the remaining steps necessary to close the gap, placing a hand on her wrist.

“Maybe you should sit down. Thing used the rest of my smelling salts Monday and I won’t have another delivery for at least a week.”

Thankfully, Enid listened. Wednesday guided her back until she was perched on her bedside, elbows to knees and face buried in her hands.

“I… I think I am…” She took another breath, shaking her head, still in her hands.

“Enid, you know you can tell me anything.” And it was true. Even though Wednesday herself was unable to tell Enid something so instrumental.

“I know.” Finally, she looked up. There was real pain staring back at her and she debated telling Enid that whatever it was could wait as long as she needed. But- “I think I’m bisexual. Or maybe pansexual. I don’t know. I’m not entirely sure what the difference is. Oh god, I’m going to have to google this.”

The first thing Wednesday realized, was that she was surprised by this development. She disliked assumptions, this kind in particular, and was rather disappointed to discover that she had made such an assumption. The second thing she realized was that perhaps she should have had this thought some time ago. Not regarding Enid. But herself. Sexuality was not something she had ever considered. More that she had avoided it fiercely. But given the feelings she harbored for her best friend, it was perhaps something that would do well for her to consider. The third thing she realized was that Enid was staring at her looking more nervous than Wednesday could recall ever seeing her look. The forth thing was that she had not said a single word and perhaps this was contributing to Enid’s worry.

“I see.”

She was not adept at social cues or expectations, but even she knew this was a bit… unhelpful.

“You’re freaked, aren’t you?”

She took one singular breath in, held it, and then released it and pushed aside her discomfort.

“Enid. I am going to be very clear so please listen to me. I am not ‘freaked’. I must confess that this news has taken me by surprise. That does not mean that I in any way pass judgement on you. The particulars of your romantic or sexual attractions should hold no sway over how people view you. Nothing about what you have told me changes my acceptance of you, nor does it in any way change our friendship. This part of you, while I am sure has been with you, just undiscovered, for a very long time, is only one more part of you for me to now embrace and support. I am sure that our peers will greet this news just as positively as I do when and if you are ready to share it with them. And if you find that anyone does treat you in any other manner, please be sure that I will take great joy in rectifying their bigotry.”

Enid chose to tell Yoko a couple days later, and of course told Thing later that same night, but otherwise decided that she wanted to do a little research before sharing with anyone else. Two weeks later, Enid had dragged Wednesday over by the desk chair she was still sitting in to her laptop, despite the ‘grumpy’ mood she had apparently been in. Enid had been conducting her research, as she was told, and had found some resources that she found helpful, but wanted to discuss it with Wednesday.

Wednesday had agreed.

And so the night passed as they talked and Enid explained. She’d settled on bisexual. There had been a lot of back and forth, but it was the term she said she felt most comfortable with for now. Wednesday had insisted that she did not need to find a perfect fit, or even a label at all, if she did not want to. And Enid had listened, and agreed, but had decided that this was what felt right for now.

They’d scrolled the site, and Wednesday had, admittedly, learned a lot.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision so much, how she just announced without any sort of flair or importance that ‘I believe myself to be a lesbian’.

Enid had given her a very curious look, and then laughed once, slapped both palms over her mouth, eyes wide, before apologizing profusely. There had been a scramble to assure Wednesday that she thought it had been just a bit of her dry humor. This same conversation, had it occurred a year prior, would have led to a very different outcome. But Wednesday had merely smiled. Dimples and all and told Enid it was ‘okay’.

There had been a rush of questions that followed. Wednesday had done her best to side table most of them, honestly not even having answers herself. Enid had taken it in stride, too caught up in her emotions and the long hug Wednesday had given her - a dangerous move but one she couldn’t hold herself back from when Enid had looked at her with so much joy and comfort.

It had taken until two weeks before the end of the semester before Enid brought it up once again and Wednesday had to lament her bad luck.

“So, is it safe to assume that crush was not on a guy then?”

Wednesday had sighed heavily, rolled her eyes for good measure, and then, begrudgingly, confirmed ‘yes’.

Enid had, once again, tried to guess. ‘Was it Bianca’ - ‘no’. ‘Was it Yoko’ - ‘no, please stop’. ‘Was it Divina’ - ‘no, Enid, I’m serious, stop’.

There were several more guesses, all of which were wrong. Wednesday had to stop answering. She also realized she needed to see a cardiologist. Her blood pressure surely had to be concerningly high.

Enid met someone in California. She was a normie from the local high school, worked at a bookstore, and was apparently ‘super pretty, like so pretty Wednesday’.

Wednesday did her best to reign in her jealousy and ignore the way her chest hurt every time Enid told her about the New Year’s party they went to together, or how they’d gone to the aquarium, or how much it was going to suck when the break ended and she’d have to come back to Vermont, as if Wednesday wasn’t already suffering from that very distance.

She hated herself and her inability to just move on already. She hated how every time Enid found happiness with someone it felt like she was dying. She also hated how she wanted to be at peace with Enid’s happiness and felt like an inadequate friend when it proved difficult. Enid deserved better than that.

She decided that the only way to finally put an end to this was distance.

Enid had always been overworked - self inflicted as it was - she never failed to overextend herself. Wednesday decided that she should do the same that spring.

In addition to fencing and tending bees, on top of her cello and her newest novel, she decided to learn a new language, and then another. She joined Xavier and some newer students in the archery club - Xavier finally having moved on from his own unrequited interest nearly a year ago. She began to spend time in the greenhouse and had begrudgingly taken on a sort of teaching assistant role for the lower level courses. She joined the Nightshades - still not engaging in the social aspects - spending hours at a time in the library.

Enid hadn’t verbally questioned it but she could tell there was a question there nonetheless.

An entire semester passed.

She was still desperately in love.

And she missed Enid.

A week into summer, Enid called her crying. It had been some time since this last had happened and Wednesday felt a wave of deja vu. Her first instinct was to book a trip to San Francisco to find this normie and paint a very permanent picture of why you don’t mess with outcasts. Why you don’t mess with Enid.

But Enid had quickly assured her the this particular call came from a place of even more desperate hurt. Her mother.

Wednesday hated a lot of people. She loathed Ester Sinclair.

Enid, through sobs and heartache, had told Wednesday that her mother was threatening to send her to a conversion camp this summer. Wednesday first feared that it was a result of Enid’s relationship. Enid told her it was lycanthropy conversion. Which made exactly zero sense as Enid had wolfed out over a year and half ago.

But Enid had been keeping secrets.

It seemed they both were.

Enid hadn’t wolfed out in three months.

Wednesday felt like a horrible friend. Again. A feeling that only doubled when Enid told her that she and her girlfriend had broken up before even then.

Her father had barely let her finish her explanation before the ticket had been purchased, confirmation sent directly to Enid. Wednesday had spent the next two days overwhelmed by guilt and with the conviction to set this right as best she could.

Lurch drove her to the airport. She’d only had a double that morning and yet her heart still thudded dangerously in her chest.

Wednesday spotted Enid first. She looked just as beautiful as always, but also alarmingly exhausted.

The hug felt like home.

Enid had insisted she take the guest room that her mother had offered her, despite Wednesday’s insistence that she was comfortable sharing her bedroom. She had been both relieved and disappointed by the decision.

Esther had called on the morning after her arrival and in the aftermath Enid had slipped into a depressive state for weeks. Wednesday had struggled to find a good balance between support and space. Enid had fluctuated between crying in her arms and spending days at a time locked away in the room across the hall. But eventually, she had settled and found more of herself and Wednesday had tried not to feel so overwhelmed by the first full smile Enid sent her way. It had been, of all things, as a result of Pugsley making a truly childish joke at Wednesday’s expense. She had half a mind to string him up in the dungeon until she saw just how light and free Enid was looking at her.

It had been a particularly sticky night in July that found them laying out in the graveyard, the sun having disappeared beneath the horizon hours ago, their fingers laced together, when Enid announced without an ounce of fanfare ‘If we are both single in twenty years promise me we’ll get married and just run free in the woods together. Like a fairytale - a wolf and a witch - you can even have the Grimms version. I’ll let you eat children and you can help me decorate our gingerbread house’.

It almost didn’t matter if she’d meant it or not. Wednesday said yes.

Enid wolfed out her second full moon there. Wednesday had smiled out across the sprawling estate as she took to the night. She loved Enid. She would with or without the wolf, but she was glad for Enid to see her find that in herself again. She nearly told Enid all of that over breakfast the next morning. Instead she squeezed her hand and settled on a simple “You looked radiant last night”.

Someone had spiked the punch. In the three years she’d been at Nevermore, she’d somehow made it through every school dance without such an incident. Most of the senior class had been overjoyed. Enid had been a bit worried. Wednesday had been a little drunk.

They’d gone together. As friends. Of course. Enid had asked her - not wanting to be awkwardly alone since most of their friends had dates to the Rave’N lined up ages in advance. Wednesday had shrugged her shoulders as if she were indifferent while she tried not to throw up all over herself. Friends. She had to remind herself Enid had wanted to go as friend. She reminded herself several times the day she asked, and nearly every day up until the dance. She reminded herself there, until she didn’t. Because someone had spiked the punch. And she was drunk.

The trek back to their room had been messy. Wednesday already had several less than warm feelings towards the patriarchy and designers for their dastardly invention and perpetualization of high heels. She had chosen the stupid things but that felt less important.

Enid had dragged both of their mattresses into the middle of the room, collapsing into them only after trading in her dress for baggy sweats. Wednesday followed in her footsteps - with a bit of shoving motion.

Wednesday was cold. Enid was warm.

It felt nice to be close like this. Pressed haphazardly together beneath blankets, not caring about how she shouldn’t be doing this. Not caring that Enid kept pulling her closer.

“Enid?”

“Hmm.” The warmth rolled closer.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The warmth got very still. “Yes.”

She wasn’t sure if that was the answer she was looking for or not, or even if she had been looking for something specific at all.

“Did… did it hurt?”

The warmth rolled back. Away. She was cold again. “Yes. And no.”

That felt about right. Maybe this was just what it was to love someone. To hurt when they hurt, and sometimes when they didn’t. And somehow to love it all anyways.

Enid shuffled in again, pressing their backs together. “Have you?”

“Yes.”

The warmth rolled again. She tried to look her in the eyes but she had drank a lot of the punch - she’d been rather nervous.

“You never told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

And in that moment, she was.

She was also a coward.

Of all the things to finally lead to that conversation, of course it had been her mother’s fault.

Morticia Addams was a woman of many things, and tact usually was one of them… just not always with her daughter. Though Wednesday had long held a suspicion that it was done with intention. In this instance, she was nearly certain. The conversation had no reason to sway in that direction. They’d been discussing Wednesday’s decision to stay in New Jersey, at home, after graduation. The decision had surprised Wednesday nearly as much as it had her parents. She understood why they’d be so surprised. She had been aching for independence since she’d clawed her way out of the womb. But she had realized that her family was not only important to her, but offered what little else could - comfort, understanding, acceptance. She’d decided to really work at getting published. She’d been stubborn, and in large part still was, but she’d also softened to the idea of reworking some aspects of her novels in order to have them meet certain standards. She hadn’t softened much, not really, but she was at least determined to stop committing vengeful felonies when an editor made suggestions. She’d at least thoroughly consider the merit of the suggestion first. But the fact stood that she needn’t be permanently located elsewhere for this to happen. Her family home was close enough to New York City to allow her attend necessary meetings with little notice. So she would return home.

Her parents had gladly accepted the proposal. She had not been surprised. That was expected.

What had not been expected, however, was her mother asking her about Enid. Not the general inquiry. They had been roommates and friends for years. Enid had even spent the vast majority of the summer holiday and the entirety of winter break with them after all. And Enid had discussed some half-formed plans with her family then. But nothing had been solidified. So Wednesday had not taken note of anything unusual in the request for information and had informed her mother that Enid had decided to go forward with a remote sociology program focusing on outcast rights and policies. She’d gotten a scholarship. Wednesday had been unable to stop the smile from taking hold as she shared the news with pride. And her mother had taken the news with great joy, positively beaming praise at the wolf, despite her not even being in the room to hear it. And Wednesday had thought the topic settled. But then she’d looked Wednesday hard in the eyes and pressed.

“Is she returning to California?”

Wednesday didn’t know, honestly. She’d been afraid to ask. She’d told Enid already about her own plans, and had promised her that she was always welcome back to the family home if she needed a place to go. If she wanted to come along.

“I’m unsure.”

The downturn of her mother’s mouth should have clued her in that something was coming, but she had let herself get caught up in her own mind for a moment and missed the warning.

“I’m very sorry Wednesday. I hope that this works out for you, but if it doesn’t, your father and I will support you in any way we can.”

She wanted to play the fool, but she couldn’t trick her family as she could others. Her mother would see right through the farce.

“Yes. Well…”

She tried not to let it eat at her as the call finished. She tried to stop dwelling as she went down for dinner. She actively tried to engage in conversation, she listened to superfluous gossip. Useless. All of it.

Enid sensed it right away, shooting her glances across the table, mouthing ‘what’s wrong’ as they disposed of their trash and returned their trays, took Wednesday’s hand in hers as they climbed back up to their dorm together.

The door had barely closed behind them before Enid was all but demanding for Wednesday to just tell her already what was going on.

“I spoke with my mother. Before dinner.”

Enid grimaced at her, all teeth and nerves. “Was she not okay with your plan? Because honestly I would be super shocked.”

“No, she was amenable to it.”

“Then… what happened?”

Wednesday busied herself changing out of her uniform, trying to buy time, trying and failing to come up with some other explanation that wasn’t an outright lie.

“She wanted to know if you were returning to California and I told her I wasn’t sure yet.”

“Okay…” Enid returned from her own closet, pulling Wednesday out of hers and gesturing at her bed. They sat perched side by side. “I don’t understand. Are you upset I haven’t given you an answer yet? Do you not want me to go with you anymore? Because I don’t have to. You guys have already done like so so much for me and -“

Wednesday squeezed her hand and Enid stopped. “Enid. You will always be welcome. By me and my family. But there are no expectations. This decision is yours and I will, we all will, support you no matter your decision.”

“I don’t understand what the problem is then.”

What was she supposed to do? She’d avoided this for so long. Years. And now…now what?

“Wednesday?” The hand in hers squeezed and she closed her eyes and just focused on the pressure of fingers pressing into her knuckles.

“She was concerned that I would be heartbroken if you chose to go back to California.”

Enid was very very silent. In all her years, she had not once felt so much distaste for silence as she did in that moment.

“Wednesday.” It was a plea.

She wasn’t sure when it had started. Hadn’t noticed their presence at all. It was only with the warmth of Enid’s finger sweeping gently up along the curve of her check, the cool wake left behind as she pulled the moisture away, her thumb brushing at the unshed tears in the corner of her eye. Only then did she realize she was crying. She didn’t cry. She never cried.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t know how.” It was hardly a whisper, but it was still louder than what went unsaid. ‘I was afraid. I didn’t want to lose you. I’m afraid I still might.’

Enid pulled at her hand, forcing her to turn, to look at her. Enid was soft. She had always been soft. She’d also been hard. Resilient. Tough. Strong. But under that all, she’d been soft. Always caring. Always present.

She wasn’t running.

She still could.

But she wasn’t. For now.

“I’m sorry too.”

Enid was going to run.

The hand still wiping at her eyes slid against her cheek and she fought hard to keep her eyes forward, not to hide. She’d hid for so long. From herself. From her family. From Enid.

“I can’t be mad at you, Wednesday. I’d be such a fucking hypocrite.” And then for good measure she added. “I practically proposed to you in your graveyard and I still couldn’t just tell you the truth.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Enid. You offered that as a last resort after two decades. That is hardly a proposal.”

Enid laughed back. “Sue me. I was scared shitless okay. What was I supposed to say ‘I know we are both 17 but we should totes just like get married because I love you and I really hope you love me too’?”

“I do, you know.” She pressed her forehead against Enid’s, finally feeling the anxiety start to ease. “Love you.”

Enid pulled her in, holding her tight with strong hands and an even stronger conviction. “I love you too.”

Graduation was horribly boring. She would have taken years on repeat of that though if it meant her entire family hadn’t shown up and positively cooed over her. A wretched endeavor. She almost regretted her decision to move back home.

But she couldn’t in earnest feel such things. Not with Enid’s luggage already packed away next to hers in the family hearse.

She’d endured more torture in her life than entire bloodlines, and she could only hope for the trend to continue. But she had no desire to torture herself in such a way as to be separated from Enid. Not when they had just begun to find their footing.

Not when nineteen years from now she could cash in on that promise to marry her and go live in the woods. Not when Enid had teased that she’d perhaps make an exception and make it five years.

She let her mother swan about her. She let her father clap her shoulders and bellow his congratulations. She let her brother hug her tightly for far too long. She’d stomach it all for an eternity knowing she’d have Enid by her side through it all.