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A few days after the magnificent destruction of Crackstone’s ridiculous bronze statue, Wednesday is sitting calmly in her desk chair as Enid wraps ropes around her.
“Why are we doing this again?” Enid asks, clearly still weirded out despite this being the fourth time.
“Make it tighter; right now I could easily wiggle myself free. And it’s because I refuse to have a roommate who doesn’t know how to properly kidnap someone.”
“Right, because I’m definitely going to be kidnapping someone anytime soon.” Enid mutters. “Or, you know, ever.”
“You never know when you’ll need to kidnap or properly tie someone up. It never hurts to be prepared, Enid.”
“Right, right.” Enid sighs. “What spurred this on anyways? Is it 'Teach Your Roommate How to Kidnap Someone' Day or something?”
“Much as I would enjoy such a holiday or its subsequent variations- no. I simply recently found myself in such a situation and my kidnappers were woefully inadequate as to the proper procedure.”
“Wait, what?” Enid squawks, stopping her practice to run around and kneel in front of Wednesday.
Wednesday frowns as the ropes slacken.
And they were finally at the perfect constriction level as well.
What a waste.
“When did this happen? Who were they? They didn’t hurt you, right? Right?”
“Enid.” Wednesday interrupts. “Breathe.”
Enid takes in a deep breath, just like Wednesday taught her (as one can never know when they’ll be sinking to the depths of a lake with a large stone latched to their feet) and lets it out slowly.
“My kidnappers, though I hesitate to even bestow that title on them, were simply a group of bored students who thought they could kidnap the infamous Wednesday Addams in a misguided attempt to show their superiority. They were woefully incompetent, to the point where I couldn’t even enjoy being kidnapped.”
Wednesday knows telling Enid about the Nightshades wouldn’t be a good idea, primarily because Enid’s best friend, Yoko, is a member and never bothered to get Enid initiated or tell her about the so-called 'secret society'.
Though Wednesday can’t help but wonder if she’s misunderstanding the idea of 'best friends', since she’s fairly sure if she had one (not that she’d ever want one) she would at least tell them about something like being part of a secret society. Most secret societies aren’t actually all that secret, after all, the Nightshades especially.
But, for whatever reason, Yoko hasn’t told Enid, so Wednesday won’t either.
Wednesday doesn’t want to deal with the inevitable emotional tantrum Enid would throw if she finds out about this perceived betrayal from her best friend.
Wednesday has no other motives for choosing to do so, regardless of what Thing thinks.
He doesn’t even have a brain, so any 'thoughts' he has carry no actual merit and should clearly be disregarded.
(When Wednesday said as much to him, Thing only flicked his fingers at her in the way he does when he’s laughing at someone. Even threats to lock him in her desk drawer for the rest of the semester didn’t get him to stop, likely because he knew Enid would hear him and just let him right out again. How obnoxious. She never should’ve let them meet).
Enid laughs, her voice slightly hysterical.
“Right, what’s the point of being kidnapped if you can’t enjoy it?”
“Exactly.” Wednesday nods. “I refuse for you to find yourself in such a situation only to utterly embarrass yourself. It would completely ruin my reputation if people found out my own roommate can’t even properly kidnap someone.”
“Ah yes, and we can’t have that.”
Wednesday gives a pointed look to the slackened ropes around her.
Enid sighs, rolls her eyes, and returns to her position behind Wednesday.
The ropes immediately constrict to the perfect amount of tightness, which is promising.
“Good. Now wrap it around me a few more times, then tie it off like I showed you. We’ll do my hands next.”
Enid does as she’s told, tying the rope tightly and testing it with a harsh tug that pushes the breath out of Wednesday.
(Only because of the physical pressure; no other reason).
“Alright, how’s that?” Enid asks.
Wednesday tests the ropes keeping her upper arms firmly bound to her torso.
Just as she taught Enid, the ropes only constrict further the more she moves.
Perfect.
“Acceptable. Now, my hands.”
Enid sighs but still acquiesces.
Eventually she finishes, the rope tight enough to cut off circulation (just the way she likes it), and when Wednesday attempts to escape the ropes, she finds to her satisfaction that Enid has tied it perfectly to keep the knots securely far from her fingers and to give her no chance of slipping a hidden blade out of her sleeves to cut herself free.
Excellent.
“Sufficient. Now my feet.”
Enid sighs even louder but still does as Wednesday demands (asks).
“God, you’re so weird.”
“Likewise. The fact that I have to teach you this at all is deplorable.”
“Right, I’m sure you’ve known how to do this since you were three.”
“Four, actually.” Enid huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, and Wednesday doesn’t feel anything about it.
“My feet.” Wednesday reminds her.
“I know, I know, I’m on it.” Enid is indeed on it, tying the last of the ropes around Wednesday’s ankles and the legs of the chairs.
She does it at the perfect tightness and is at her fastest, learning surprisingly quickly after only three practice runs.
“Alright.” Enid says, finishing off the final knot with a flourish. She steps back with hands on her hips and an obnoxious (endearing) grin on her face.
Wednesday pushes her legs against the rope until it creaks under the strain, the grain of it digging into the skin of her leg.
She looks at Enid, looking so satisfied with herself.
Magnificent.
“Adequate.”
“Done.” Enid says cheerfully.
“Not yet. Don’t forget-”
“For the last time, I’m not gagging you Wednesday.”
“But any prospective kidnapping victim would-”
“Cry out for help, I know, but it’s not like you’re going to be crying out for help, whether or not you’re actually being kidnapped or not. Besides, once again, how will you be able to tell me my mistakes if you can’t talk?”
“As if I wouldn’t be able to get out of it easily.”
“Then what’s the point of doing it? I’m not gagging you, and that’s final. Now, on with your grand escape.” Enid makes an impatient gesture with her hand with a resigned expression on her face. "Let’s see how fast you get out of it this time.”
Wednesday struggles, trying several regular and a few not-so-regular methods to free herself.
After ten minutes, she stops and nods.
“Alright, you may begin untying me now.”
Enid perks up excitedly.
“No way! I actually did it?” Wednesday can practically see a blond tail wagging excitedly behind her.
“It’s decent enough for now; most people wouldn’t be able to escape it for at least a few hours, and I would need another ten minutes or so. We’ll practice more later.”
Enid tilts her head back and groans. Wednesday does not smile.
“But why?” She whines.
“Untie me now, questions later.”
“Fine.” Enid leans down to untie Wednesday’s ankles, then hesitates.
“Um, are you especially attached to these ropes?”
“No; they’re easy enough to replace. Why?”
“Good.” Then Enid proceeds to tear the ropes apart, careful not to hurt Wednesday in the process.
Wednesday’s brain blanks out for a moment as she processes this information, and when the odd sensation filling up her skull with fizz dissipates, Enid’s already moved onto the last ropes around Wednesday’s hands, the ones around Wednesday’s other ankle and the ones around her torso laying in tatters around her feet.
Wednesday aggressively does not feel anything about it.
Anything. At. All.
When Enid finishes with her hands, Wednesday stands up from the chair and shakes off the last shreds of the ropes.
She rubs her wrists idly, not because of the familiar prickling sensation of blood rushing back into her hands that she always enjoys, but because of the unfamiliar warmth from where Enid’s fingers brushed against her skin.
With her escape from the ropes, an idea for escaping something else has occurred to her.
“Enid, as you’ve been talking about consistently for the past few weeks, the Rave’N Dance is coming up this Saturday.”
“Yep!” Enid says excitedly. “I can’t wait! I’m actually going dress-shopping pretty soon, though no one’s asked me yet. Why? Do you want to go shopping together?”
“No, I don’t believe so. The reason I bring it up is because I’ve been asked to go three times in the past day alone by Xavier, Tyler, and Eugene. Eugene and I decided that we would instead be doing more investigating for the case, but since his moms sent him a hive of a very rare species of bee that he has to get properly housed, those plans have been postponed.”
Enid’s giving her that patented confused puppy look, so Wednesday sighs and continues.
“The point is, this is becoming a pattern, and we still have several days before the dance, and I don’t have time to fend off multiple suitors during my investigation.” Wednesday suddenly can’t meet Enid’s eyes, looking vaguely over her shoulder.
She has to hide her hands behind her back.
For some unfathomable reason, they’ve started shaking like they haven’t since the first time she held a scalpel, and even then it was from excitement.
She has no idea why they’re shaking now.
“To that end, and assuming you don’t have anyone you’re planning to ask or are hoping will ask you to the dance-” Wednesday has to take in a deep breath, feeling the echo of the ropes restricting around her ribs, but she has no idea where to continue from here.
Thankfully, Enid interrupts the silence.
“No, I’m not really planning to go with anyone. But if a certain someone were to ask … ”
Wednesday’s eyes dart back to Enid’s.
Something is glittering within that crystal-blue, something that looks suspiciously (hopefully) like anticipation.
It makes something in Wednesday’s chest give way and returns her ability to speak.
“Then, since I wish to avoid anyone else asking me to the dance and you’re not currently planning to attend with anyone in particular, I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to go with me.”
“Like, on a date?” Enid asks, that same glimmer in her eyes.
“No.” Wednesday says instinctively, a little too quickly, but rather than dampen the shine in Enid’s eyes, it only makes her eyes shine a little more.
“Well, okay, let’s go on our not-a-date to the dance together, then.” Enid says, a mischievous look on her face like she knows something that Wednesday doesn’t.
For once, Wednesday doesn’t feel the overwhelming need to find out what exactly it is.
Like this is one mystery she can let lie.
Looking at Enid, with her happy grin and the way she bounces on her feet, Wednesday feels … odd.
Her stomach fills with the buzzing of mosquitoes, her heart starts pounding hard enough to leave a mark against the inside of her chest, her breath becomes dangerously shallow, and her head becomes light-headed and dizzy, like the feeling just before asphyxiation.
She’s not sure what this feeling is, but she likes it.
It feels like dying constantly even as she’s never felt more morbidly alive.
She can easily see herself becoming addicted to it, and the only person who ever elicits that reaction in her is Enid.
Wednesday smiles (very, very slightly) and wonders if it’s possible that she could ever become addicted to a person.
Well, only one way to find out, she supposes.