Chapter Text
Space was something Wednesday had strict rules on. She had an extra-sized personal bubble, one made of toxic gas that would rapidly suffocate the invader (figuratively, of course). Her space has been a particularly sensitive issue since she was a little girl. But now, somehow, this Candyland explosion of a girl was constantly inside of the noxious gas bubble, and it did not deter her one bit. And as much as it pained Wednesday, she found she did not mind it. Enid was sweet, conscious of the limits, and always watching for what other people would have found to be nonexistent reactions from Wednesday. A slight twitch under her eye and Enid hung around the very edge of the bubble, not leaving it but creating space. A slightly deeper breath from Wednesday and Enid would stop rubbing the back of Wednesday’s hand with her thumb, suddenly aware of the repetitive motion. Wednesday hadn’t needed to set these boundaries, Enid just knew her. The revelation was more shocking to Wednesday than that of her own comfort. It also made Wednesday want to kiss Enid all the time.
Her incessant need to be touching Enid, to be breathing her in, to hear her humming was grinding on Wednesday, but she made no effort to shake herself from it. She could see her father fawning over her mother every time she felt the pang of longing. Try as she might to maintain her priorities, being with Enid was her main concern. She still had an investigation to accomplish, but in the back of her mind that had suddenly become less important than watching terrible holiday movies with Enid. The days in December began to drift past until they were on their break and the winter solstice was upon them. The halls were empty aside from the few students who stayed on campus and a professor here and there. The nights were long, and the snow outside piled on itself like an invisible hand was steadily building a powdered stairway into the sky.
The first night they slept in the same bed was earth shattering and Wednesday would not admit it but also terrifying. Wednesday had accidentally left their window cracked open after playing the cello that morning, and the room was glacial when they returned from dinner. A small drift of snow had gathered in the sliver between the glass and the floor, and the wind blew flurries that dusted their sheets and rugs and pillows. Thing hustled over and slid the glass closed, Enid and Wednesday shivering in the doorway.
“Oh gosh its freezing in here!” said Enid.
“This is my mistake. I will clean this up and stay here tonight. You should stay in Yoko’s room.” Wednesday drew her oversized hoody closer to her body, picked up their broom, and began to clean the snow pile from the floor.
“I’m not staying there; it smells weird when Yoko isn’t there. Plus, not having windows in that room means I’d accidentally sleep all day and miss out.”
“Miss out on what?”
“Just, you know, things. Anything.”
Wednesday raised her eyebrow at Enid, the corners of her mouth turning upward. She didn’t need to speak to accuse Enid of missing her, and Enid got the message.
“Okay yes. I don’t want to sleep in late because I really don’t want to miss out on any time with you.” Enid blushed, shrugging and swaying her arms back and forth. She shut their bedroom door and plugged their Christmas lights in. “Plus, Yoko doesn’t have this sweet holiday set up.”
“Suit yourself.” Wednesday opened the window and dumped the snow back outside, softly closing it again.
They got ready for bed in sweaters and slippers, brushing their teeth side by side in their shared bathroom. Enid wore a giant rainbow hoody and pink short shorts, claiming she would overheat in the night if she wore anything more. Wednesday stood next to her in her black hoody and black sweats. She enjoyed the temperature; it reminded her of the corpse lockers in the morgue. The peace of the dark, chilling drawer always calmed her, but she was still a human in need of bodily warmth (unfortunately). They left the bathroom and met in the middle of the room to hug goodnight, Enid always initiating first contact. Wednesday turned her head up and kissed a soft, chaste kiss on Enid’s lips. This had become their routine. Then they slid into their respective beds, listening to each other’s breathing until one fell asleep.
On this particular night, Wednesday could not fall asleep. Her feet were cold, and she hated sleeping in sweats. She tossed and turned, trying to find a warmer spot in the ice block of a bed. After 30 minutes, Thing jumped out of the blankets and tapped on her headboard, saying “Driving Thing crazy! Flopping like a fish!”
“You can sleep in the desk if this doesn’t suit you, mongrel.” Wednesday quietly growled back at him, trying not to wake Enid.
“Wednesday! Be nice to him!” Enid chirped from her side of the room, startling Wednesday into sitting up.
She was surprised to see Enid sitting in her bed, watching her. “He called me a fish!”
“Well, you have been flopping around for half an hour.” Enid said, “Are you still cold?”
“No.” Wednesday lied.
Enid got out of her bed, gathering up a feathery pink throw blanket and wrapping it around her head and shoulders. She shuffled over to the side of Wednesday’s bed.
“Scooch.”
Wednesday looked at Enid dumbfounded. She felt her face pulling into an expression of half bewilderment and mortification. Enid waited patiently for a few seconds before she began to hop from one foot to the other.
“Seriously Wednesday my feet are going to freeze.”
When Wednesday still hadn’t moved Enid flopped onto the bed sideways, landing across Wednesday’s lap. She rolled over, her head on Wednesday’s thighs smiling brightly.
“I know I’m pushing your boundaries right now, but I also know that you will not admit to me that you can’t sleep because you’re freezing. I’m hot blooded, so I’m going to sleep in your bed tonight,” she paused, “unless it makes you uncomfortable.”
Wednesday could only shake her head. She was terrified of what would come out of her mouth if she opened it. She could feel Gomez in her blood, pumping into every organ as her heart pounded. She was absolutely sure she was going to embarrass herself the second her voice came back to her.
She was correct. Her lips cracked open, and without her consent, the words she’d heard a million times slipped from them, “Cara mia-" she slapped her hand over her mouth, absolutely incensed that she had just said it. She threw her body back, her head hitting the pillow with Enid sprawled across her lap. Her hand still pressed tightly to her lips she groaned and rolled her eyes back. Enid shot up, worry painted across her face. She leaned over Wednesday, swinging one leg over her hips to gain a better vantage point so she could see what was happening.
“Oh my gosh Wednesday are you okay? Are you having a seizure? A vision? Do I hold you down? Am I supposed to grab your tongue? Is that only dogs? Do I put a belt in your mouth?”
Enid’s weight across her hips was nearly enough to send Wednesday deeper into hysterics, but her concern was enough to force Wednesday to snap out of it and calm Enid down. She lowered her hands from her mouth, eyes wide, looking to all the world like a maniac. Enid looked down at her, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“I am fine,” Wednesday croaked and cracked her teeth closed as she felt another confession bubbling out of her.
“You know you’re generally pretty strange Wednesday, but you’re taking the cake right now.” Enid stayed put, not convinced that Wednesday was indeed of sound mind and body.
Wednesday groaned, torn between keeping the jail cell of her mouth locked behind her teeth and reassuring Enid that all was more than well, too well, in fact. Her stomach was flooded with tiny baby spiders scurrying around, chasing butterflies, and spinning them into nauseating words that Wednesday could not stop escaping.
“I would die for you. I would kill for you. Either way, what bliss.” Her father's words were hers now. And she meant every. Single. One.
Enid giggled at that, finally understanding the internal battle Wednesday was undergoing. She leaned over Wednesday’s body, her hands on either side of her head, knees still securely around her waist. She lowered her head to Wednesday’s ear, and Wednesday thought she may actually die for Enid Sinclair at that moment. Her blonde hair softly brushed across her chin, and Wednesday felt every single inch of her body where Enid was touching her. Her skin was on fire and was she- was she blushing? She wasn’t even aware her body was capable of such a thing until then.
“Who knew Wednesday Addams would be so easy to fluster,” Enid whispered, then pressed a kiss to the side of Wednesday’s jaw before falling to her side of the bed. She wriggled under the comforter and threw the pink blanket across both of their legs. She squirmed as close to Wednesday as physically possible, threw a leg over her thighs, an arm across her waist, and tucked her head into Wednesday’s collarbone.
Wednesday lay rigid on her back for a moment and then melted into the contact. Enid was warm and smelled like grass and some sugary berry Wednesday could not identify. Her hair was peppermint strips softly reaching toward her face with every breath in, dancing away with every breath out. Her feet warmed up within minutes. Thing settled at the foot of the bed between Enid’s legs, content at last. Soon enough, all breathing in the room was soft and even, the multicolored lights twinkling red and pink across the slowly warming bedroom.
--------------------------------
Wednesday woke gradually, slowly gaining consciousness. She was so comfortable and warm; her bed had never been so warm. Or so crowded. The events of the night before came rushing back to her and she cracked open her right eye, checking for Enid. Sure enough, she was there, sleeping soundly next to Wednesday. She no longer had her limbs draped across Wednesday, but her face was so close every soft exhale fluttered Wednesday’s hair across her eyebrows.
Wednesday contented herself to stare, just for a little while. Watching Enid sleep was like watching the sea on a clear day. Steady and calm, warm, and welcoming, but with the undeniable undertone of potential danger. Wednesday was in awe of her, so absolutely painfully beautiful and yet, capable of unspeakable carnage. She watched until she could no longer contain herself and reached out to brush her fingers across Enid’s cheek.
The smile on her face was suddenly wrenched away as her body arched and her neck cracked backward, her eyes rolling in her head, seized by her vision. A flash of a red bulb hanging in the dark cave-like room. A workbench with an impressive torture tool roll displayed on its top. The smell of pine needles and peppermint. Chains clanking against the back wall, one set empty, one occupied. Wednesday approached and jumped backward as the captive roared and slashed at her with its claws. It’s rainbow claws. Enid’s claws.
“Enid!” Wednesday shouted, her body hitting the floor hard.
Enid poked her head over the edge of the bed, eyes huge. Wednesday lay sprawled out on the dorm floor beside her bed, sweating and shaking. Enid slid off the mattress, dragging her pink blanket to the floor with her beside Wednesday, who still lay on her back.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Am I smiling?” Wednesday asked, confused.
“Uh no…you’re all clammy and paler than usual. I woke up when you yelled, and the next thing I know, you’re on the floor.”
“A vision.” Wednesday said, sitting up. She looked at Enid and before she could stop herself, she was leaning into her hugging her hard.
“Oh,” Enid said, shocked by the contact, “Woah I’m not going anywhere.”
Wednesday kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth and then squeezed her again. When she stood, she regained her composure, becoming her stoic self. But the worry was there, deep behind her eyes, as she helped pull Enid up off the floor.
“Are you going to tell me what happened in the vision?” Enid asked.
Wednesday sighed and padded over to her clue board. “You were chained up in my stalker’s lair. I knew this was a bad idea,” she began to pace in front of the board, hand on her chin, “I knew I was putting you at risk.”
“Hey, hello! Wednesday, I’m actually still here, totally fine. See?” Enid opened her arms up, causing her sweater to rise and expose the skin above her shorts. Wednesday’s eyes went there immediately, and she scolded herself internally.
“It’s the future Enid. My visions haven’t been wrong yet,” she continued to pace, “It seems this rivalry has been on the back burner for long enough. I need to take care of them tonight.”
“But Wednesday, its Christmas Eve! We’re supposed to be around the school tree enjoying the yule log and sipping hot chocolate.”
“We will not enjoy any festivities if you are chained to someone’s wall Enid.”
“You know I really appreciate that you want to protect me Wednesday, but I think you underestimate me. I’m going to go get us breakfast and I’ll help you crack this mystery when I get back!”
When Enid returned with bagels in hand, Wednesday was sitting in her bed surrounded by piles of books, sucking on one of the black and white candy canes. She popped the candy from her lips, the end whittled down into a sharp dagger-like point. She looked up at Enid and beckoned her over hastily.
“Look here,” she pointed in a heavy red leatherbound book, “this says that there was a shapeshifter cult that used that same triangle logo on the business cards. I do not know how I missed this.”
Enid read aloud over Wednesday’s shoulder, “It says they believed themselves to be the superior outcast beings. “
“And their primary rivals were witches.” Wednesday finished Enid’s sentence. “Which clarifies why this shapeshifter was particularly interested in me.”
Enid nodded, following Wednesday’s logic eagerly. “Maybe you should take this to Weems Wednesday. She is a shapeshifter after all.”
Wednesday snapped the book shut, “Yes I agree.” She swung her feet off the bed and opened her closet door before disappearing inside. When she resurfaced, she was in a long-sleeved black dress with an overstated white collar that hung past her collarbones. She slipped her boots over her black leggings and turned to Enid.
“Please stay here. I will speak with Weems and return to you as soon as possible.” She slipped out of the door and clicked it shut before hurrying down the hallway toward the front of the school.
Principle Weems was perched on her armchair in front of a roaring fire when Wednesday arrived. She glanced up when the door opened but didn’t seem surprised to see Wednesday haunting her doorway.
“Come in then, Miss Addams.”
Wednesday wasted no time with niceties. She pulled the red business card from her pocket and showed it to Weems, pointing at the triangle. “What is this? My research yielded very little information besides minor mentions of a cult.”
Weems raised her eyebrow and the card, nodding her head in interest, “Yes, this is the symbol of the cult of mutans. They were a highly ostracized group; their views were seen as quite extreme.”
Wednesday stared, waiting for more information. Weems continued, “Many of them were imprisoned or dead. You see, once they joined the cult, they were no longer allowed to take the shape of their original body. If a shapeshifter remains outside of its natural shape for too long, too many years, they rapidly lose their sanity. We are taught never to forget our own reflections from a young age to avoid such tragedy. But the mutans thought themselves above nature, immune to consequence, among many other things. They essentially fell off the face of the earth many years ago.”
“Apparently, they have clawed their way back,” Wednesday said, taking the card back from Weems.
“Yes, it appears so,” replied Weems.
“Why have you not mentioned this before? Surely you knew about the cards.”
“It may surprise you, Miss Addams, but I don’t know everything. And no one ever asked.” She swirled a glass of amber liquid in one hand, then sipped it while staring into the fire.
“I have a final question.”
“Let’s hear it then.”
“Where can I find them?”
“You cannot. But if I were looking, I would search where most people who believe themselves to be above others go.” Weems raised an eyebrow, watching Wednesday in her peripheral. She sipped her drink again, “Merry Christmas Wednesday.”
Wednesday gave her a curt nod, “Happy Holidays, Principal Weems.” Then strode out of the office.
Wednesday threw open the door to her room, “I know where he is.”
She went to the trunk under her bed and dragged it out, flipping the lid up. She began pulling tools and weapons out, laying them on the bed before she realized how quiet the room was. She frowned and turned, surveying the space. Empty. She craned her neck to see the bathroom dark and unoccupied.
“Enid? Thing?” No reply. No shuffling of fingertips across wood. A pit opened up inside of Wednesdays chest, consuming her stomach and her legs and stretching around her arms and tunneling her vision. They were gone. She had left them for thirty minutes. How could she be so careless? So foolish? Her visions were inevitable. Before she allowed herself to despair too much further, she knew she needed to take action. She grabbed the canvas duffle from under her bed and shoved as many necessities as possible inside. She slung the bag onto her back and ran for the door.
-------------------
The church loomed over the sidewalk like a giant in the pitch sky. Wednesday looked up to the bell tower, snowflakes delicately landing in her eyelashes, blurring her vision. She approached the giant oak doors, brass knockers hanging feet above her head. One of them was cracked open a foot, maybe less, but someone had forgotten to close it in their haste. Wednesday shoved the door with her shoulder, pushing it open just enough to allow the bag and her body to slip inside. Candles dimly lit the room, the shadows dancing on the stone walls as she entered. Long, silent steps brought her down between the pews. Behind the altar, she could see a light strip from an open door reaching out across the red carpet. She climbed the three stairs, passed the stand, and made her way to the door. As she approached, she could see stone steps leading down into a soft curve. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and took the first step.
A loud crack made her wince and close her eyes until she felt warm liquid trickling from the back of her head. She frowned, reaching her hand back to feel her head. As she turned to investigate, she saw a white beard, and then everything went black.
Once again Wednesday woke gradually, halfheartedly grasping for consciousness. She reached out for Enid, eyes still closed. Only when she moved her arm it was above her head, and cold metal bit into her wrist. Weird, she couldn’t recall consenting to being cuffed. She was sure it was something she may grow to lik—Her dreamy thoughts snapped back as she ripped her eyes open. The smell of pine and peppermint filled her nostrils, making her stomach turn. She was chained, hands over her head to the very same wall from her vision. In front of her was the workbench, the roll of tools waiting there.
“We finally meet in person,” a voice rebounded around the walls of the room. It was like ten voices all speaking at once, deep and high pitched, gravelly and soft. It was surely not the voice of a human.
Wednesday rolled her eyes, “If you are expecting me to grovel, you have the wrong Addams. I haven’t been chained in a torture chamber in far too long.”
A heavy dragging sound came from her side, a shadow moved toward the light over the table. She could see the shape changing and rippling, like it was made of water. As it approached the light it resembled her, then a hazy version of Enid, and then it stretched into the Sherriff until it settled into the likeness of a fat man in a red suit. It put its black-gloved hands on the table, leaning toward her with a menacing glare.
“Santa? That is the form you have chosen in a feeble attempt to disturb me?” Wednesday deadpanned, holding on to intense eye contact with the thing.
“I am whatever pleases me, witch.” It growled out, rounding the table.
“Is this going how you dreamed it would?”
The shapeshifter screamed an animal-like wail in irritation and slapped her hard across the face.
“Your approval is insignificant to me.” It’s ten voices piled into twenty voices.
“Where is Enid.” Wednesday demanded.
“Your dog? She will be taken care of in due time. It seems you are the fool I will dispose of first.” The santa's body rippled, its face becoming featureless as it turned back to the table.
It grabbed a drill and turned back to Wednesday, pulling the trigger menacingly.
Wednesday sighed, “If you’re going to lobotomize me, at least use the ice pick.”
She was not afraid of dying or of not existing anymore, but deep inside of her she was saddened to know she would never see Enid again. Never pull yellow hairs from her socks again, never taste her cherry chapstick again. She would never get to watch her open the Christmas present Wednesday had secretly bought her. She was not afraid, but the thought did darken the mood. She looked back up to the shapeshifter, inching it’s way closer to her, clearly drawing out the moment for itself in glee.
Suddenly, the door blasted into splinters around the room, shards piercing both Wednesday and the shapeshifter. The creature screamed with all twenty voices turning in fury to the door. A growl rumbled through the dark passage, then long multicolored nails gripped the doorway. A huge golden wolf burst its head into the cellar room, giant teeth shining in the dim candlelight. Saliva ran from the corner of the werewolf’s mouth, making her teeth glisten brighter. She squeezed her shoulders through the doorway, towering over the shapeshifter. It dropped the drill and shifted in a flash, trying to mirror Enid. But it was too fluid and messy, growing then shrinking back down again. The creature howled a horrific sound and Enid stepped back, slightly shocked by the pitch. She quickly recovered and snatched the shapeshifter up, claws piercing its flesh. The creature screamed louder, and Enid snarled, looked to Wednesday, and chomped down on its head. The body in her claws went limp as she threw it aside.
Thing scuttled in the door then, dragging a robe behind him. When Enid saw him she shifted back to her human form. Wednesday watched wide eyed as Enid’s spine snapped and twisted, fur sloughed off her body, bloody skin revealed. She panted as she pulled on the robe, did a little shimmy to shake off the fur remnants and then hurried over to Wednesday.
“Are you okay? Were you tortured?” Enid asked as she ran her fingers over Wednesday, searching for major injuries.
Wednesday was positive she had never loved Enid Sinclair more than that moment. And then the next moment, and then the next. There was blood in her teeth and under her nails, her hair was wild and she reeked of death. It was the most beautiful scene Wednesday had ever seen.
“To live without you, only that would be torture.” Her father's words again became her own.
Enid stopped her injury sweep and looked Wednesday in the eye, “I will address how romantic that was in a moment, but right now, I need you to know I’m so mad at you! Why on earth would you rush into this thing’s lair alone?!”
Enid scowled at Wednesday while she opened her hand for Thing to step into, holding a small ring of keys on his pinky, and lifted him to Wednesday's wrists. As he worked at unlocking her shackles, Wednesday scrambled to explain. She would look back on the moment as the first time Wednesday Addams had ever scrambled.
“I returned from meeting with Weems, and you two were gone. It was perfectly logical of me to assume this is where you were. I came to rescue you.”
Enid rolled her eyes, “Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t here, or we’d all be dead! Again, I will address the romantics later. Sheesh a girl can't even go get second breakfast without nearly losing her girlfriend around here.”
Wednesday’s shackles were finally unlocked, and she dropped her arms, rubbing her wrists. She winced as Enid pulled her to her feet, quickly grabbing at a pain in her leg. She hissed as she pulled at a two-inch sliver of wood buried into her thigh muscle and gritted her teeth. Enid gulped and gripped her arm, eyes going wide.
“Did you juuuussst—” Enid crumpled to the floor, the sight of Wednesday pulling the shard from her leg too much for her.
“Thing, the smelling salts are in my duffel.”
Christmas day came with another helping of snow, peppering the layers built up against the walls of Nevermore. Enid sat huddled close to Wednesday in front of their common room Christmas tree, mugs in hand, slowly sipping hot cocoa as the lights in the tree twinkled. Enid laid her head onto Wednesday’s chest, smiling.
Their gifts sat on the coffee table before them, the torn paper littered around the room. A black locket with an ornate wolf engraved on the metal rested inside its decorative case. Right beside it was a bundle of sheet music with a note that read, 'Songs Wednesday must play on command for Enid.' Lying on the pages was another locket, this one rose gold, cracked open to show a photo of Enid and Wednesday after winning the Poe Cup.
“Hey Wednesday?”
“Yes Enid?”
“Did the creepy stalker guy ever say why he was running around town killing people and all that?”
“No, he did not. But some monsters do not need reason.”
Enid nodded, accepting the answer. “So, did we learn the true meaning of Christmas-or the holidays?”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes in thought, “If the true meaning was don’t trust the police, Santa is an evil entity and candy canes make excellent daggers, then yes. I do believe I have learned the true meaning of Christmas.”
Enid giggled and turned her face up to Wednesday. Wednesday pressed a kiss to her hair, and “I love you Enid Sinclair,” slipped right out of her lips.
“I love you too Wednesday.”