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She’s always hated the thought of holding hands with someone: the sickening feeling inside watching a couple across the street lock fingers, the way her parents would hold hands at the dinner table each night, the way people at school gallop in the halls linked together. Torture- and not the good kind.
Not allowed. If anyone dared to grab her hands, she’d bury their bodies where no one would find them.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d let it slide. Just this once.
1
Her head buzzes with a new sort of emptiness.
She’s never been the type to let her mind succumb to a blank state, preferring to be productive and planning. Nothing comes from a blank mind.
The night, she supposes, is full of surprises.
Enid is in front of her, covered head to toe in a brownish red grime- what she assumes to be the leftovers from her fight with the Hyde- and sticks and leaves. There are tear tracts staining her face, and she can feel the remnants of wet splotches on her own shirt from their hug. For as dirty and clearly exhausted as she looks, Wednesday can’t help but stare and think nothing but stunning.
The mental capacity to process what just happened just isn’t there. What she does recognize, however, is the fact that Enid transformed, saved her, tore the Hyde to shreds and came out victorious.
They hugged, for so long.
“Are you hurt?” Enid finally speaks. The crowd is moving back towards school around them, but none of it is registering. She can only see pink and red: one color she happens to prefer over the rest, and another she’s learning to accept.
Her head is fuzzy. She blames the blood loss; her shoulder is still gushing, the fabric around it dampening by the minute.
“You're what!?” The werewolf almost shouts, moving her hands to grab Wednesday’s shoulder.
Huh. I can’t remember speaking just then.
“You’re losing blood?” Enid shakes her a little, as if jogging Wednesday’s head will help her to slowly process the words being spoken. It doesn’t.
“I may have been shot in the shoulder with an arrow,” She states bluntly, blinking at the girl in front of her who is starting to crumble.
“What?” Enid’s hands immediately pull back from their place on her shoulders. She watches Enid’s eyes widen when her left hand pulls back stained red.
Red is a great color on her, she thinks.
“Can you stop being morbid for two seconds and explain?”
She really needs to stop thinking- there’s clearly a lack of the tightly constricted barrier between her head and her mouth that normally resides. Her throat bobs, a slow swallow, and she tries to formulate something coherent.
“Crackstone shot me with an arrow. But not before knocking me unconscious and impaling me with a knife.”
Enid starts to cry again.
Shit, I need to get a grip.
“I- I’m okay. Goody healed me,” She tries to reason, but her heart isn’t in it, not elaborating any further. The buzz in her head grows. She feels seconds away from passing out, but the thought of leaving Enid to see her crumple fills her with some sort of disdain she can’t process right now.
“We need to get inside,” Enid says, and Wednesday finally tears her eyes off the girl to look up and around, only to see most of the crowd has retreated into the gates of the school.
She spots Bianca, Xavier, and some of the other Nightshades waiting. Teacher’s are yelling in the background, but everything is getting blurrier by the minute.
She’s had her fair share of blood loss experience, but something feels morbidly different about this time. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to fall unconscious for once. A coma, some part of her mind reasons, could be a fantastic way to rest right now. Another part disagrees.
They hugged . Wednesday doesn’t remember the last time she’s hugged someone outside of the forceful interactions with her father.
And it felt good .
She blames it on the relief that consumed her once she spotted Enid barreling at her from the forest. Worry isn’t ever a common feeling she has, but she certainly can recognize she was scared for her roommate.
Her vision is tunneling, she’s remembering the events of the night.
Weems, Thornhill, Tyler, school, fire, Crackstone, knife, choking, can’t breathe-
Something touches her. Enid’s hand is in hers, slipping in so gently Wednesday has to look down to check that they are actually touching. It’s the only thing she can focus on. The girl’s hand is splotched with red- both of their hands are, truly- from herself or the Hyde, she doesn’t know.
Red is a great color.
Enid lets out a chuckle (did she speak again?) but it sounds miles away. The hand on hers is grounding. The fight to stay awake is easier now. She has so much to do, after the night, but all she can feel is the warm pressure coming from her hand. Her limbs are trembling and cold- blood loss, most likely the cause- and Enid is steady and warm and keeping her from drifting away, or going so far off balance that she just collapses.
Normally, she’d cast any hand from hers. Something about now just feels different. She doesn’t fight it as her legs begin to mindlessly move.
Enid drags her all the way to the dorm, hand in hand.
Bianca, Yoko, and Divina are waiting at their door. She wants them to go away, to leave her space, but her mouth is still disconnected from her head and no words are coming out.
This once, she won’t fight it. The werewolf gives the others a smile as they all walk through the doorway. For Enid.
It’s only when she finally slips unconscious that she lets go.
(The next morning, she wakes up, shoulder wrapped in gauze and wearing a new set of clothes, with her hand still wrapped around Enid’s. She’s posted in her bed, right in the center, and Enid is slumped over in her desk chair that she must’ve pulled up after she fell unconscious. When Wednesday tries to pull her hand away, the werewolf squeezes tighter.
Just this once , she decides, and drifts back off to sleep.)
2
January is her favorite winter month. No christmas, no other holidays, no breaks to look forward to. The atmosphere is full of dread and slow changes and she loves nothing more than watching the miserable faces of her classmates as the routine of school returns.
Winter break was uneventful, to say the least, but it was needed. As much as she loves a good mystery-slash-serial killer-slash-battle to the death, her injuries took a toll.
She spent the break in a laze- as unproductive as she would ever allow herself to be. A few experiments on Pugsley, cleaning the greenhouse with mother, playing games with father. Of course, work on her sequel started too.
Overall, though, not much happened. Xavier’s phone proved to be a nuisance, always needing to be plugged in when she had half a mind to even use it. Enid texted her a lot, though. She was added to a group chat at one point to her discontentment:
Enid added Weds to ‘NightSlaydes’
Bianca: when did she get a phone?
Xavier: I gave her one
Ajax: squirrels
Xavier: huh
Ajax: …
: in your pants
Xavier: :|
Divina: give it up, dude
Enid: welcome to the gc!
Weds: I did not consent to this.
Yoko: wow she speaks!
Weds: Why is my name abbreviated?
Yoko: good to hear from you too
Weds: You won’t be glad to have heard from me unless someone fixes my name.
Kent: Damn
Weds: Just because we are miles apart doesn’t mean I don’t have ways to appear in your bedroom.
Yoko disliked the message.
Weds: My knife collection has been carefully polished since I’ve been home.
Enid changed ‘Weds’ to ‘Wednesday’.
Enid: better?
Wednesday: Yes.
Wednesday left the group chat.
Bianca: how does she even know how to do that
Enid: ugh
Enid didn’t ignore her like she wanted. Her phone was blown up daily with photos and videos of the other girl’s life. After the third night of these spammings, she sent a threatening text asking the girl to cease. The only reply she received was an insipid crying face.
(Something tugged in her stomach.)
The updates slowed for a bit, but never fully stopped. Wednesday resigned to responding with an emoji of a knife to show the other girl she looked at it.
(The crying face had nothing to do with her change in attitude.)
Enid hearted the knife every single time, much to her enragement. It became routine, though, and soon it was too normal for Wednesday to put extra thought into it. Break passed slowly.
She was ready to be back in her routine of school, finding new mysteries with Thing, perhaps even visiting her… friends - a vile realization that those around her consider her a friend- and writing the sequel to her novel.
She wasn’t ready for this.
“Come on, Wednesday!”
Enid stands in the middle of the field their balcony overlooks, looking up at Wednesday. She’s yelling, hands cupped around her mouth as though that will help shrink the distance, and her breath fogs in front of her.
Even from their distance, she can picture how cold it is. Enid is wearing her snood, bundled in at least two different coats with a thick pair of boots. She is almost a colorful, circular smear on the snow with how wrapped up she looks.
The Nightshades stand behind, equally as wrapped. They are all waving for her to join them, Kent even going as far as to do flips to convince her. Like that means anything. A few of them have flashlights, creating a flickering light show as they swing their hands around.
“Don’t be a buzzkill!” Bianca steps up next to Enid, copying her position with hands around her mouth.
The day after school started, Enid had proposed the idea of sneaking out one night to go ice skating. Sneaking out , being the key words. They clearly didn’t understand what that meant, with all the screaming and the flipping and the flashing lights. Nothing irked her more than people who couldn’t be stealthy when it mattered.
The new headmaster isn’t exactly lenient with their meetups like Weems was. The thought of the old principal sent a chill down Wednesday’s spine for reasons she blinks to clear from her mind.
Enid hollers again, telling her, “You promised earlier!”
She didn’t actually. Her tongue almost snaps with a retort; the memory is quite clear and she remembers stating, “I’ll think about it.”
A soft response, if she has to reflect on it. She regrets not being harsher.
No promises there, though. She never made promises, unless it was absolutely objective to whatever she was trying to do. Lies are for breaking, but never promises. Enid knows this, knows promises are held in a heavy light, which means the girl is exploiting her.
Devious.
She has half a mind to turn around, walk through the spinning window, and sit at her desk and write until her hands ache from cramping.
Instead, she stares a little longer at Enid’s hopeful smile, and dons a frown. Thing’s fingers tap behind her, and she spins on her heel to see him holding the new black snood Enid gifted her a few days ago.
“Don’t say a word,” She threatens him, snatching the snood, as he swings his fingers in a disgusting display of contentment.
As she walks towards the door without a word to the group flagging her down outside, she can hear groans of defeat from the group. It almost makes her smile; nothing feels as good as creating unexpected strife. Except in a few minutes, instead of sitting at her desk typing, she’s going to be stomping out to them. Much to her frustration, she already knows they will all be smiling. Especially Enid.
“Ridiculous,” She mumbles to herself.
Her boots are sitting at the end of her bed, and her jacket hangs in her closet. She slips it all on, starting to sweat just from walking around the dorm room.
When she appears, five minutes later, wrapped in the black snood and a large black overcoat, they cheer and holler and she spins on the heel of her boot, walking right back into the doorway she exited from.
Enid appears behind her before she can make it back to the stairs, spitting out a little apology, and asking if they could go back outside.
She says nothing, but turns and walks back outside to the group, who are considerably quieter.
//
For all of Wednesday’s exploring, she has never found this lake before. It is decently north from the school, a good twenty minute walk.
It’s massive though, certainly bigger than the one that sits outside the Addams’ house. Her boot taps the ice, ensuring it’s solid enough for skating.
“I checked earlier,” Yoko says, appearing at her side on the bank. “Should be safe as long as we don’t go all the way to the middle.”
“It’s adequate,” She mumbles, expressing as much approval as she can.
The lake at her home was a frequent spot for her and Puglsey, especially during winter when they could walk on top. The fond memories of pushing her brother through the ice almost makes her mouth quirk at the sides. Safe to say, she knows when ice is good and when it isn’t.
“Damn, that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Yoko laughs, nudging her a little.
“Say that again and we’ll see who can survive under the ice longer,” She threatens. Yoko chuckles again, but slowly veers off towards the rest of the group without another word.
Voices drift from behind her, where the group is sitting in the snow putting their skates on. Wednesday, instead of joining, opts to look around and study the area. The snow is fresh, having fallen all day and just stopping in the past hour. The moon isn’t completely centered in the sky, but it is bright enough to make the snow glint.
It’s refreshing to take in the dry and clear air. She commits this location to memory, to come back and explore with Thing. If there wasn’t a group of adventure-crazed teens behind her, it would be perfectly silent- a good place to draw writing inspiration.
“Come on, guys!”
And suddenly Enid is sprinting past her side and leaping onto the ice. Wednesday watches her skates hit the ice, before immediately toppling over, face first, and sliding a good two feet across.
“Enid!” An undignified yelp slips from her throat.
The girl is just laying down, unmoving, and her breath stops completely.
There’s a chuffing from where she lays, and Wednesday furrows her eyebrows when she realizes the girl is laughing.
Enid sits up, turning to look back. Her face is red and scratched and there’s ice and water all across her front, but she’s laughing.
She breathes out.
“I don’t really know what I expected to happen,” Enid admits, sheepishly rubbing her head. The rest of the group begin taunting her for her extreme fail.
Her eyes are locked on Enid’s pink snood around her neck. She says nothing.
“I don’t know if I can stand up,” She says, chuckling when Ajax asks her if she’s okay.
(The urge to strangle him grows; reason unknown.)
Wednesday looks down at her shoes, of which are unfortunately not a pair of ice skates. It seems in her angry rush to leave, she forgot hers. Her hands clench shut.
“Relax, Addams,” Yoko is at her side again, this time, wearing her own set of skates. “Enid brought yours. They’re over with our stuff.”
She points to where the rest of the Nightshades are finishing putting their skates on. Two black skates pop from the white snow.
“Now, go help her up,” Yoko takes off her glasses, moonlight not posing a threat to the vampire.
“She is fine on her own,” Wednesday states.
“Oh please, you were two seconds away from jumping after her,” she says teasingly, poking at her side. Her nostrils flare.
“That was your last strike, I’m pushing you through the ice-”
“Wednesday, please help!” Enid shouts from where she sits on the ice. Kent, Divina and Ajax are stepping onto the ice- why she doesn’t just ask them for help is a waste of time.
She stares at Enid a second longer, before turning back to finish her threat.
“Hurry now, she’s calling for you,” Yoko says with an unreadably smug look, before running off to join the rest of them on the ice.
“I don’t listen to anyone,” is the only thing she can yell as the girl gets farther and farther away.
“Of course, Addams. Just like you ‘didn’t listen to anyone’ when you decided to join us.”
All she can hear after that is a half-hearted mumble of hubris, and she feels a spew of threats pushing against her teeth.
Wednesday doesn’t understand what Yoko meant by that, but she’s too frustrated to fight back. Instead, she marches over to where Xavier sits on the ground, still tying his shoes. Her skates lay next to him. Bianca watches.
She perches down, slowly removing her own shoes one lace at a time. Precise as always.
“What was that about-” Xavier starts.
“One word and your tongue will be cut from your mouth.”
“Shit, Addams,” Bianca adds, quietly but with a look of mirth.
They say nothing more, before running off to join the group. Enid shouts for her again.
(If she picks up the pace, haphazardly throwing her very nice shoes into the snow to weakly tie her skates up, no one notices.)
//
The other’s are heading closer to the middle of the lake. Enid sits on the ground, attempting to stand once again, looking like a newborn calf trying to stand. Wednesday can hear her quiet laughs as she fumbles around, arms and legs becoming soaked from melted ice water.
She steps onto the ice, skates on, and gracefully glides towards the struggling girl. Enid stares, eyes a little wide.
“I didn’t know you could skate,” She admits.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I couldn’t.”
“True,” the blonde agrees. She’s on her hands and knees now, trying to push herself up with a quick jump. Her skates scrape clumsily and Wednesday cringes.
All at once, Enid shoots up, but her skates are sliding in front of her, immediately pushing her in a backwards direction. She starts to fall, arms flailing around in a desperate attempt to stop her head from hitting the ice, and Wednesday panics.
Her hand reaches out, grabbing Enid’s, putting an end to the pathetic scramble. First, she notices that it’s ice cold. Bits of snow and ice dot her skin, and it’s burning into her own hand, but Wednesday keeps a tight grip. Then, her eyes drift up to the werewolf, now up and stable on her feet, only to find the girl staring with her mouth slightly ajar.
“Your hand is warm,” Enid says, donning a flushed look. From the cold air, no doubt. Her nose is dotted with red and her ears a gentle pink. Their breaths fog together between them.Wednesday raises her eyebrow.
“It’s just- when I hold your hand, it’s always colder than mine.”
A valid conclusion, and she has nothing to argue. There’s something lurching in her stomach, an unpleasant nausea growing. A hum from her throat shows her agreement.
“Thanks, for helping me,” Enid says. Her hand twitches. There’s no move to let go.
“Do you even know how to skate?” Wednesday takes the opportunity to question.
“If I said yes, would you believe me?” There’s a sheepish laugh coming from her mouth- because of what, Wednesday doesn’t know.
Someone from the group shouts, breaking their delicate talk. She almost turns and yells at them, a threat of a knife in her boot rising to her mouth, but Enid just turns to the them and shouts back, “Coming!”
She won’t be mad. Just this once.
“We should go over there,” Enid clarifies. She goes to take her hand back, but Wednesday keeps her grip.
What are you doing?
“You don’t know how to skate,” She swallows under Enid’s confused look. The words are stuck in her throat, and her fingers twitch. Her eyes scan Enid’s, trying to convey what she wants to say since the rest of the words aren’t coming .
At once, Enid starts to grow a smug, sickening grin. She regrets her choice.
“Are you saying you want to keep holding my hand?”
Enid looks ecstatic, and Wednesday feels her face fall farther and farther. She can’t form an answer still, so she glares.
“Well, that’s very kind of you, Wednesday,” Enid finishes. The words are back now; kind is not in an Addams reputation.
“I’m only doing it because it would be embarrassing to see you fall again,” She argues. Enid just laughs.
“That’s good enough for me. I’d rather not fall again- my legs are freezing.”
They skate hand in hand, towards the group. Enid smiles the whole way. Wednesday feels nauseous.
Enid was right when she implied she was a horrible skater. If their hands weren’t linked, she surely would have fallen at least thrice. Every stumble, she slips a few apologies, and Wednesday slows down her pace to give the girl time to recover.
When they finally make it to the group, she finds everyone standing around. Yoko and Divina are watching them, and the others are attempting to record some type of video on Bianca’s phone.
Yoko opens her large mouth as they reach talking distance.
“Addams, when did you get so soft?”
“I am anything but,” She glares.
“Oh yeah?” Yoko challenges. “Why’re you holding hands with Enid then?”
Wednesday is suddenly very aware of the group all staring, when their attention changed, she didn’t notice. Kent is winking at her- whatever that means. The rest are laughing, and she goes to rip her hand away, when Enid gives her a side eye and a smile.
It’s hopeful.
She feels fluttery and nauseous all over again.
Dropping her hand now would only satisfy Yoko, she reasons. It would be defeat to stop.
“I helped her back up after you imbeciles skated on,” She states, as if she’s giving a scientific report for something as simple as holding a person’s hand.
“You helped her up all the way over here?” They all laugh again.
Enough of this. Three strikes. She’s out.
She rips her hand away from Enid and barrels towards the vampire.
“I’m putting you through the ice,” She declares, skating fast.
Yoko only realizes she’s serious when she doesn’t make a move to slow down to avoid collision.
“Oh shit!”
And she scrambles off of where she hugged Divina to skate off. She’s significantly less dignified in her technique and Wednesday feels herself grin as the girl panics more, distance closing.
“Run, Yoko!” Divina shouts. The others shout too, supporting the vampire who is definitely not escaping.
“Get her, Wednesday!” Enid yells, drowning out the rest of the group.
Her head turns to look at the werewolf, but she doesn’t stop skating. She’s laughing, smiling brightly, clutching her stomach. Suddenly, Wednesday’s smile has a whole lot less to do with the threatened girl.
They make eye contact, and for a second, it’s just them- smiling stupidly. The cold air is messing with her head.
There’s a thud in front of her and she rips her gaze forward to see that Yoko tripped and fell.
“End of the line, Tanaka,” She resumes her chase- the perfect opportunity to finish the job. Before she can reach for her boot, to pull out the knife and slice the ice in a circle around the girl just enough to let her fall, someone tackles into her side.
She hits the ground with a thud, right next to Yoko, and she feels her heart rate grow tenfold.
“Get. Off,” She growls. The noises of the person above her indicated that fucking Kent tackled her.
“Dogpile!” He yells, and she can hear Yoko whisper, “ oh shit ,” before the others come running- or, skating.
Someone dives over Kent and Wednesday feels her lungs crush under the weight. She yells to whoever that they have five minutes before they’ll learn what it’s like to look at their own eyeball.
Her threat is truly just an empty threat, because despite her capabilities, being strong and large and not them. She’s trapped under the giggling bodies. Clothes are crumpled, hair is tousled, and her fingers grip the ice as though she’s strangling it.
Soon, they are all piled in the middle of the ice. Wednesday’s threats go unheard, smothered by bodies and by laughter. She’s never felt so idiotic , so pitiful , so childish .
After minutes of fighting on the ice, once the adrenaline has worn off and exhaustion settles over, they all get off. Every one of their deaths, she’s planned. It will be horrible, slow, painful , every adjective she can imagine that accentuates the pain and-
Enid’s laughing. She stands over Wednesday, having somehow stood up first (without help) and laughs at Wednesday’s disheveled form.
The others are rising too, talking and giggling about what transpired. Bianca snaps a picture of her laying on the ground, face down, and she makes it her personal mission to burn the stupid phone.
“Let me help you up,” Enid says, holding her hand out.
Begrudgingly, she reaches. Her nausea returns tenfold. Once standing, she does her best to straighten her clothes and touch up her bangs that splay every which way. She gets as close to Enid as she can without their skates locking.
“I’m never hanging out with them again,” Wednesday threatens.
“You will,” Enid decides.
(Their hands are still locked as they skate to join the group, where the other’s spill meaningless apologies, only to avoid more death threats. She shouldn’t let them go.
Enid squeezes her hand. Her mouth stays shut. Just this once.)
3
It’s late.
She doesn’t have a watch, or her phone that she begrudgingly keeps, or a clock nearby.
The moon is high above her and the white cast of light, along with the tilted vertical shadows, tell her it is close to one in the morning.
Thing sits on her shoulder, a weight that keeps her moving.
A wet substance is dripping down from her right shoulder, coating her forearm and hand. It’s red. Thing presses a cloth, one that she stores in her jacket pocket at all times, against the cut.
Her stalker had left a threatening note stuck on her window.
Meet me at Crackstone’s crypt. Midnight. You’ll get answers.
Who was she to resist?
This semester has been terribly boring, making her have to wait for her stalker to incite action as she doesn’t have enough information about anything relating to the case. Until tonight.
Although short, she is formidable. Her stalker must know this, seeing as they’ve been studying her from the shadows for a few weeks now, presumably even longer. Knives sit in each of her boots, a taser in the pocket of her thick black jacket, and a longer blade on her belt.
Despite her preparations and general confidence about the situation, she was utterly unprepared for a perfectly crafted ambush. Her only saving grace was her ability to think quickly, because otherwise, she might not have made it back.
Hence, the blood leaking out as she cradles her arm to her chest. It wasn’t deep, she could feel that much, but the stalker managed to slash it with her own blade.
Father would be disgraced , she thinks angrily. A pathetic show of her highly trained self-defense skills.
Thing must read her angry exterior, because he starts signing, letting the cloth drop to the forest floor.
This is for the better. Now, your stalker will underestimate you next time.
She hums.
“That is true, although I hate the thought of someone underestimating my abilities,” She admits. Thing does have a point though, and she lets some of her resentment fade.
After all, she has bigger problems to focus on- like sneaking back into the dorm without inciting a panic.
She can’t see her shoulder properly to assess the damage, but based on the way it feels, it can’t be pretty. Last time Enid saw her covered in blood, it was after Crackstone. A little dizziness slips into her system; reason unknown.
The gates of the school are quickly approaching.
The climb up the ladder to their balcony is painful, she’ll admit- not painful enough to stop her, but painful enough to make her replay the night’s events to be angry with her lack of victory.
The window is unlocked, and she winces as her shoulder rubs the side. Her mission is almost successful when-
“What time is it?”
She woke Enid.
Be normal.
A quick glance at the clock on Enid’s nightstand, “1:32.”
The girl rolls over, and for a second, Wednesday believes she is going to fall back asleep. She turns to walk towards the bathroom, and-
“You’re bleeding?!” The sleep is gone from her voice, and before Wednesday can even turn around to reassure her roommate that it’s under control, Enid is at her side. “What happened?”
“I attempted to catch my stalker. I was not anticipating the ambush they planned,” She says sourly, remembering her earlier frustration. Enid yanks her arm from where it's cradled against her chest. It happens so fast, a wince slips out.
“Sorry! I’m sorry,” And her hand slowly slides down until it’s linked in Wednesday’s.
She tries to pull away, but Enid’s grip remains firm.
“I would like to treat the wound now so that we may both return to bed,” She demands with another tug. Still no movement for the other girl to let go.
Enid’s mouth opens and closes, a few times, before remaining shut. Her eyes are glancing up and down and the lack of words is causing Wednesday to scowl.
“Spit it out,” She says, too tired to filter her words. Not that she filters for anyone.
Enid is silent, and then, “Can I help you?”
A tender request, one that makes Wednesday’s nausea return. She should pull away, request that she returns to bed, and treat it herself.
Enid’s hand still wraps around her’s, warm hands turning red from the blood stains on Wednesday’s.
“Alright,” She concedes. Enid lets a small smile settle on her face. She’s surprisingly coherent for waking up so quickly.
(They sit in silence. Enid treats the wound, cleaning it before pressing a gauze pad overtop. Their hands are linked the entire time.
Despite feeling sweaty and bloody and overall exhausted, Wednesday doesn’t pull away.)
4
There’s another dance.
A spring dance, different from the fall Rave’N. Wednesday isn’t sure how she hadn’t heard of it before, not that she cares, just that Enid tends to fill her in on every social event at the school.
And with the snow receding, temperatures warming, and the sun (unfortunately) making its return to the skies as the days extend, the dance quickly approaches.
The last dance was memorable to say the least. Her memories aren’t all fond, given it was the night she actually felt remorse for her own actions, for him , and for Eugene. The blood though, spilling from the ceiling and breaking the limited palate of blue and white, that was one of her happiest memories.
When Enid asks her if she was thinking about going, she remembers the red, and decides that it could be worth it. Not exactly fun, but the chances of something interesting happening are high. Potentially even related to the stalker mystery.
(A memory of Enid smiling and dancing, dressed in dazzling white and pink, flickers in her mind, but it’s quickly buried.)
//
She never explicitly asked Enid to go with her, and Enid never asked her.
They just… did.
They got dresses together; Enid found hers at the same store as last year, the one that made Wednesday so nauseous that she asked for a bullet to the head, while Wednesday found hers at a pop up antique booth at the local farmer’s market, one Saturday morning:
“I can’t believe you bought something from that monstrosity of a store.”
“You bought a dress from a sketchy booth off the side of the road.”
“Yes. It’s completely more acceptable than going into that store to shop.”
"You went into the store too. Don’t act so high and mighty- I saw you eyeing that dark purple dress as we left.”
“Absolutely not.”
You’re blushing! Aw, Wednesday!”
“Another word and you won’t live to get to wear that dress to the dance.”
“Wednesday!”
They got ready together, a quiet thing in their dorm. Wednesday asked if she was going to go get ready with Yoko and the other Nightshade girls, she just replied, “I’d rather get ready with you.”
She had to take a step into the bathroom to focus on constricting the blood vessels in her face. These moments, the ones between her and Enid that leave her dizzy and nauseous in the worst way possible, are unexplained. They happen at random, although more frequently in the past few weeks, and symptoms don’t seem to stop until she can relax her heart rate.
(Deep, deep down, she knows something is different.)
They walked to the dance together, entering the doorway a good foot apart. Enid accidentally brushes against her side when someone bumped into her, and she apologized. Wednesday is, for once, grateful.
//
The dance is average. Not adequate like the Rave’N, with all its chaotic glory. But still good in its own way. She dances. Enid dances. They all group with the Nightshades.
Despite not enjoying the presence of their large group all of the time, for some reason, it’s fine tonight. She can tolerate them. Besides, the small diamonds on Enid’s face are enough to keep her eyes distracted when the group’s antics become too much.
She dances, and almost smiles when Yoko and Enid try to do a cheer stunt in the middle of the dance floor. Enid drops Yoko, making the girl fall face flat onto the ground, after she makes a joke about Enid being weak, resulting in a-
“Fuck you, Sinclair!”
-and a roaring of laughter around them.
It’s good, until Ajax stumbles backwards into her, having one too many drinks, and her neck flies back as she falls.
She’s flung into a vision:
Her body is dressed in the black dress from the thrift store. The one she saw Kimbott outside of. The one before the Rave’N.
There’s a large banner on the wall, with the words Rave’N, 2022, painted on, and she realizes she’s back in time.
Nobody is there, not a trace of any student or teacher. The walls and floor are all red, completely stained with the paint from the prank pulled by the normies.
A liquid is dripping onto her face, creating tear-like tracts of red. She touches it. It’s darker and thicker than the paint on the surroundings, and when she pulls her hand from her face, she knows it’s real blood.
Her eyes slide up, and Kimbott is there: dead, gutted, floating on the ceiling above. Her breath suddenly feels too light. Not enough air.
Her legs give out. The blood keeps dripping on her, flowing onto her hair now, as she lays beneath the body.
Then, Kimbott’s hair is staining red- not the blood kind of red, but the ginger kind. She’s turning into someone else. Her mouth opens, and before she can speak, Kimbott beats her to it.
“Wednesday Addams,” The figure growls, “Did you miss me?”
Thornhill is her. One blink, and the ceiling is covered with bodies. Different ages, some she recognizes, some she doesn’t. Weems is there, crying blood, reaching for Wednesday. Her body is frozen on the ground, staring at her former enemy.
This is a vision. She is dead.
“You failed them all,” Thornhill’s voice booms, and all at once, the walls are shaking and blood from the bodies just pours farther down, drenching her body.
Her throat is closing. She can’t speak. Can’t move.
Then, she’s being lifted off the ground with a claw around her neck.
“You really thought I liked you,” Tyler- the Hyde. Him . “Pathetic. Can’t solve a real mystery when the answer is right under your nose. You failed them!”
She can’t stop herself from flinching as he yells .
“Wednesday!”
“You failed Weems! You failed Eugene! You failed Rowan! You failed Kimbott!”
“Wednesday, can you hear me?”
“You killed them all!”
“Wednesday?!”
Her head snaps down.
She’s sitting on the ground, in the middle of the dance floor. There are feet surrounding her in a circle, and her mind does loops before realizing it’s the Nightshades. She tries to stand, but her legs shake.
You failed them!
“Woah- hey, hang on a second,” Enid is there. Her hands are on her shoulders. Wednesday rips away.
You failed them!
She needs to leave. Her second attempt at standing gives her the results she wants, but her body is quick to teeter off balance. The heels she’s wearing doesn’t help. Her hands reach out to stabilize herself, but she doesn’t dare touch another person.
“What’s wrong with her?” Someone says. Xavier, maybe?
“Are you okay?” Yoko.
There’s another hand on her shoulder, too close to her neck. Her body flinches away, leaning so far left she bumps into someone else.
Claws on her neck. You failed them!
Everything around her is vanishing. Is she going back into a vision? She doesn’t want to. Her breath is too quick, she can’t breathe.
There’s claws on her neck and she can’t breathe and she -
A soft hand slips into hers. Goosebumps run up her arms, but it feels better than whatever she was feeling a second ago.
Someone is dragging her through the crowd. Her legs are on autopilot. She doesn’t know how many people she stumbles into. Every bump sets her body on fire. She can feel where Crackstone twisted the blade, where he held her neck. The chills recede and her breathing races again.
You failed them!
The cold air hits as they exit- her and whoever is dragging her.
“ Breathe , Wednesday,” the person says. She tries. It’s choppy and staggered and she can’t get a full one in or out. She’s suffocating, panic sets before-
“Take your time, breathe in…”
She blinks a few times, trying to clear her vision. Her lungs inhale slowly.
“...and breathe out. Do it again.”
With every breath, her vision clears. She’s sitting at the fountain in the Quad. The person she’s with is Enid. They are outside the spring dance. It’s cold for a spring night, but it’s so desperately desired. The air is purifying her lungs in a way she’s never needed before.
Enid’s hand is still in hers, fingers tucked between fingers. It fits just right enough that Wednesday doesn’t want to pull away.
Her lungs are almost normal. Every muscle in her body is released, feeling as though she had just gone mountain climbing with Uncle Fester. Her body sags, and Enid is quick to pull her close- not too close to a suffocating hug, but close enough where she can slide some of her body weight into Enid’s side.
Her free hand travels to her face, to fix a piece of her bang that is itching her face, when her fingers swipe something wet.
She almost expects it to be red when she pulls it back. It’s not. There’s no memory of crying at all. Now that she’s aware, there are tears just leaking down her cheek and pooling at her chin.
Arms reach up to try and sweep them away, but her one hand is still in Enid’s and despite her strength of self control, she can’t move it away. What comes is a pathetic attempt to scrub clear her face.
“It’s okay to cry,” Enid breaks the silence, pleading. “I know you say you ‘don’t do tears’, but clearly you do- even if it’s just in this single moment. Please.”
And the damn breaks.
She’s sobbing, as silent as can be, head turning into Enid’s neck. She cries for all the people who were lost. She cries for Weems, Kimbott, Eugene. She cries for her mother and her father and her brother and her ancestors who couldn’t fight back.
She cries for Enid and the Nightshades. There are cold drops on her head, and the realization that Enid is crying too makes her release an ungodly sob.
She’s never felt so pathetic, but she doesn’t make an attempt to stop.
Enid just keeps her close enough, hand in hand. It’s enough.
//
The tears have stopped.
They still sit in the Quad. The music from the dance drifts softly in the air, not enough to disturb her, but enough to make her aware that there could be other people around.
No words are spoken. Wednesday knows Enid is waiting for her, giving her space to talk. She’s never been more angry and more grateful to be understood. Their hands are still linked. Enid started rubbing her thumb over Wednesday’s, and each pass makes her shiver.
“I saw Thornhill. In my vision,” She starts. “Tyler too. He was taunting me, showing me how I-”
The word stumbles out.
“- I failed them.”
“It wasn't your fault,” Enid says firmly, not moving from her position.
“I could have done more. Tyler had me wrapped around his finger and-”
“ No ,” Enid almost booms. She sits up now, turning to look into Wednesday’s eyes. She’s never seen so much decisiveness in her blue eyes. “It isn’t your fault. You risked your own life to solve a case that should have never been your responsibility in the first place. I don’t care if you don’t believe me now- you will.”
Wednesday is silent.
“I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”
Her throat is closing up again, and she wills herself not to cry again. She isn’t sure it's possible for her very underdeveloped tear ducts to even make any more.
Instead of speaking- what she feels inside, she doesn’t think could ever be expressed as words- she tightens her hand around Enids.
Her cold hand is warming by the second.
(Enid squeezes back. They sit by the fountain for a little longer, until deciding to return to their bedroom.
She checks her phone before falling asleep, where a dozen messages wait in the nightshade group chat Enid, once again, forced her into:
Bianca: we’re here for u
Yoko: <3
There are a few others. Wednesday feels her face heat with shame as she types out a message:
Wednesday: Thank you.)
5
Wednesday can smell alcohol in the air.
The Nightshade’s library dons a completely different look: blankets cover the main circle. Lights are strung over the bookshelves, casting the room in a warm yellow glow. There must be a speaker in one of the corners because soft jazz music plays in the background.
But the main difference, one Wednesday knows is not normal, is the smell of alcohol.
“What are you all doing?” She asks the group.
Everyone sits in the circle; Divina is laying in Yoko’s lap, Bianca and Enid are looking at something on a phone, and the boys are all mixing drinks in a large bottle.
Enid had texted her an hour ago, stating there was something mysterious in the library. She wasn’t going to follow through, but curiosity got the best of her. The answer wasn’t what she expected.
“Weds!” Enid notices her presence at the top of the staircase. “Finally, I didn’t think you were coming.”
“I’m not staying. What are you doing?” She repeats herself.
Enid frowns, and it’s at that moment when she realizes-
“Enid, are you drunk?” Her face is stoic, but her hands twitch and she has to cross her arms. After a few moments of debating, she stomps down the stairs. Ajax hollers at her.
“We’ve been mixing a bunch of different things for a while now,” He sort of slurs. Bianca speaks up when she just kind of stares at him.
“We’ve been playing drinking games since all of us are sleeping here tonight. Enid lost most of them,” She explains.
“It’s no fair, you guys always cheat!”
“We do not-”
“Kent definitely does,” Xavier chimes in.
“Don’t be a sore loser, E,” Kent defends. Enid just scoffs, before looking back up at Wednesday.
Now, she stands on the outer rim of the circle. Enid pats a space next to her. A moment is spent fighting herself (leave and return to the safety of her dorm room, or deal with whatever these imbeciles are doing) but Yoko makes a joke about her:
“Don’t be a bitch, Addams. We know you like us.”
“That couldn’t be farther from the truth,” She spits.
She makes her way to Enid and sits down slowly. Yoko scoffs and Divina tells her to be quiet.
“Hi, Wednesday,” Enid leans over to say. Their hands only barely touch. Wednesday can feel the heat, the heavy particles of old drinks tingle her face with the proximity.
“How much did you drink?” She isn’t concerned. Just, scoping out what she got herself into by sitting in this circle.
“Not much,” She giggles. Her face is flush and her eyes are sleepy. Her hands grab for Wednesday's.
“Fucking liar,” Bianca clarifies.
Ajax claps, drawing everyone’s attention. They all look.
“Now, although Yoko is the mixologist, the boys worked hard on this one, right guys?”
Xavier nods and Kent rubs his hands together, clearly the more excited one of the pair.
“Hell yeah!” He celebrates.
Plastic solo cups are passed around, full of something that neither looks or smells pleasant. Ajax offers her a cup, but she refuses. Being drunk isn’t something she ever wants to do, let alone with these people.
“C’mon, Wednesday,” Enid nudges her side, wrapping her arm around Wednesday’s. She should snap at her, but bites her tongue instead.
The others start chanting her name, like she out of any of them would fall for fucking peer pressure.
“I’m only doing this to get you all to be quiet before I put a bullet in everyone here. Including me,” She threatens, and then snatches the cup.
They cheer and get situated where they sit. Enid tugs on the arm she’s got looped and forces Wednesday to look at her.
“You don’t have to,” Enid is a good friend, she will admit. They are friends, and Enid is good at it.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Ajax takes his seat back in the circle: “Let the games begin!”
//
It’s been what feels like an hour. The others have all fallen asleep.
They started with some ridiculous game, a weird spin off of truth or dare.
Wednesday has had alcohol before, during Dia de los Muertos with her family, but not with other teenagers and not with whatever is in this cup.
She took one sip and immediately fired at Ajax for creating a “pitiful excuse for a drink.” The other’s chime in and agree. He just shrugs and looks at the other two boys, who pretend that their drink is the most interesting thing in the room.
They changed games while Yoko made a new mix. Kent mentioned ‘never have I ever’ and they stuck with it.
Wednesday can’t lie- it wasn’t horrible. The others can be funny- in moderation- and their drunk disposition gives her needed ammo to use for future threats.
For example, now she knows Yoko’s worst fear is spiders. Oh, how easily exploitable that is, she thinks, and she almost laughs when she thinks of what she could do with that knowledge.
She also knows that Bianca has a psychotic ex from normie school (good, in case she needs to contact someone for more blackmail), Ajax’s mom spread an embarrassing photo of him as a child around Nevermore ‘on accident’ (blackmail), and Divina is terrified of closing her eyes in the shower (also blackmail).
The entire time, Enid is linked to Wednesday’s side. She knows the girl is touchy on her own, but being intoxicated adds a whole extra layer to the craving. When Yoko was handing out new drinks, she tried leaning forward to grab it and Enid verbally whined that her arms slipped off.
Pathetic, she wanted to berate.
Instead, she let Enid wrap back around as the game continues, ignoring the quiet tease from Bianca who is considerably less drunk that the rest of their friends.
That was hours ago.
Now, the group is passed out, too drunk to clean up or get ready for bed. They sleep where they lay.
Enid and Wednesday are turned to one another, both sitting criss-crossed. Enid let go of her arm long ago, opting to hold her hand when they separated to look at one another.
She admitted she wasn’t tired yet. Enid said she wasn’t either, so they kept the game going. Why she’s playing this stupid game after the rest are done, she can’t comprehend at the moment.
Her mind feels increasingly empty, just like it did that night with Crackstone. It’s getting easier to think of that night without immediately feeling the weight of guilt. Any time it comes up, Enid just quickly rubs her hand in what is supposed to be a comforting thing.
It isn’t.
(It is.)
The alcohol is making it hard to lie to herself. At this point, both of them have had too much to drink and should definitely go to bed.
Neither of them move.
“Okay, never have I ever…” Enid slurs, “... eaten a piece of roadkill.”
Wednesday drinks the remainder of her cup.
Enid makes a gagging noise.
“What the fuck, Weds?” She says. “That’s disgusting.”
“It was a dare from my brother,” Wednesday replies, reminiscing. “I was challenged to cook it in a way that made it taste like steak.”
Enid shook with a chill of disgust. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Did it taste like steak?”
“Fuck no,” She curses. Enid laughs, a lot. “Why are you laughing at me?”
Her face wants to be angry, but Enid’s giggling is getting to her and she can’t help but almost smile and let out a few airy breaths.
Fuck alcohol.
“I’ve never heard you curse before,” Enid admits.
“I don’t,” She says. “I find there to be so many vocabulary words to use that don’t show my lack of self respect or control.”
Enid is still laughing. She racks her brain for a word she’s liked recently.
“Like disapprobation.”
“You’re silly, Weds,” Enid teases.
“I am not silly,” She pushes back. Their hands are still connected. The cups from the game have rolled away. There’s no reason for them to be awake. “And do not call me Weds.”
“Yes, you are! You act so ‘oooh, woe is me’, but I know in that little head of yours, there’s so many nice and kind ideas,” Enid taps her finger on their interlocked hands. “Weds.”
“That’s not true. Take it back,” anger flares.
“Nope! Because even you know it’s right-”
“Take it back,” She threatens. Enid’s smile drops from her face.
“Or what?” Enid challenges, suddenly seeming much more sober. Wednesday feels her mind stumble for something to say.
“Or…” Nothing comes, because Enid is staring at her, directly into her eyes, and then just for a second, her vision drops. “Or, I’ll…”
Her heart is thumping. There’s the same stupid nauseous feeling rising again, and everything feels hot and stuffy and she almost can’t breathe. It isn’t unpleasant.
Something is different here, something is different here, something-
Her eyes drop to Enid’s lips.
The warm lighting of the library, while not her preferred kind of lighting, is making it seem like it’s just the two of them. Enid’s face is painted a soft yellow with brown shadows to accentuate. Her lips look so warm.
Their hands are still touching, and Enid’s thumb is rubbing hers.
She’s never been so close to someone else when-
Enid surges forward.
Their lips meet.
Magical is the only fucking word in Wednesday’s entire dictionary that she can use to describe how she feels. Enid is touching her; their lips are so gently pressed, their hands locked and rubbing together.
Her eyes slip shut and Enid pushes further into her and she’s never craved any touch like this, ever. Ever.
It feels so fucking good.
They stay kissing until she pulls back, needing a breath of fresh air, only inches apart. Enid’s breath is hot on her face, and Wednesday has never smelt something so clearly. A little bit of cinnamon mixed with Yoko’s fruity drink. It’s intoxicating- more so than the drinks earlier.
She can’t sit here longer and not do anything. Enid is right there. Her lips push forward again and Enid reciprocates. It feels hot .
Someone groans around them. Wednesday rips back, suddenly oh so sober that there are other people in the room.
The events from moments ago replay in her mind, the scare giving her a chance to think clearly about her own actions. Their hands are still locked, but Enid stares at her like she had completely pulled away.
Her mind puts the pieces together. They were kissing. Surrounded by the Nightshades. Kissing, and holding hands, and-
She rises too quickly and the alcohol shoots to her head. Fighting back the dizzy spell, she starts to move towards the exit.
Everything is stuffy, the lights, the people, it’s too much. Enid is too much.
“Weds,” Enid begs. “Wednesday, wait, please-”
She shuts the library door without looking back.
(She’s up the stairs before she processes that for once, she pulled her hands away from Enid’s.)
1
She’s avoided Enid for days.
Correction, she’s avoided the Nightshades as a whole since that night.
The next morning, she woke with a killer headache and the knowledge that she had let Enid kiss her. She kissed Enid back.
And, maybe, she didn’t outright hate it. Touch, she assumed, was for the weak. But that night made her feel more empowered than ever.
Fuck, when did this get so complicated. When did she feel things? When did she become her father?
It’s easy to avoid the others. In class? Sit at the back and use the teacher’s lecture as an excuse. At lunch? Go to the dorm. After school? Disappear into Jericho.
It isn’t easy to avoid Enid.
The girl has stuck to a pretty strict routine this whole year. Come in after class at the same time, go to sleep at the same time. Now, she’s unpredictable. As if she wants Wednesday to be more confused than she already is.
Thing is being helpful, for once, and telling her when the girl is asleep each night, so she doesn’t need to result in stalking the girl.
It works for a few nights, until Thing betrays her.
He tells her the coast is clear, middle of the day. She just needs to grab a new line of ink for her typewriter that she’s moved to Eugene’s bee shack. In and out.
Except, when she enters with Thing on her shoulder, Enid is standing at her desk, looking undeniably furious.
“The hell, Wednesday?”
She turns away, running for the window.
“Don’t you dare run! You disappear for days and think you can slip away?”
There is no answer. She can’t look at the girl. She doesn’t even know why she's running at this point.
“Look at me,” the girl demands. Wednesday should run, should change schools, should never come back. There seems to be a lot of things she should have done these past few weeks.
Something deep in her prevents it every time. Enid walks to where she stands frozen, facing the window.
“Wednesday,” She breathes. The girl in front of her looks rough, clothes dirty, hair messy, like she hasn’t taken care of herself in days. Wednesday knows she looks no better.
“What happened the other night,” She firmly states. It needs to be dealt with so they can go back to… whatever it was before. The sickening symptoms pale in comparison to this.
Enid stops her from finishing.
“I know- I’m so sorry. I- I was drunk and clearly not thinking at all,” She starts to work herself up. “I know you have boundaries and I know I pushed too far, I never meant to hurt you.”
The girl is crying now, not loud sobs, but gentle tears rolling down her face.
“I thought I’d ruined our friendship- I don’t know- I panicked the next morning when you were gone and I thought it was all some mistake-”
“Enid.”
“I’m sorry,” She cries. “I- I’m really sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
Enid’s eyes look up, as if to search for any lies. A single tear leaks out, down her chin.
“Really?”
Wednesday nods, barely perceptible. Her fingers tremble.
“Okay, thank you, really, it won’t happen again,” She states with a finality. “We can go back to normal.”
Her stomach twists.
It’s now or never, Wednesday.
She’s never run from confrontation before, ever , but something about this feels important and different and for once she wants to be gentle.
“Wait,” slips out before she can plan anything else to say. Enid looks up at her, eyes drying by the minute.
The words are stuck, she can’t get them out, and time is ticking-
She grabs Enid’s hand- cradles it between both of her own. Her eyes flicker down to what she’s holding. Enid’s gaze feels scrutinizing.
The words aren’t coming, but Enid is smart, this she knows. She will understand, she will-
“Really?” It’s hopeful and quiet.
Wednesday is frozen still, lungs halting her breath. She squeezes the hand, conveying what she can. She may never understand how she felt before, but she knows what she feels now. Enid is everything to her.
“Okay,” Enid finishes. Wednesday feels the air return.
“Okay.”
They stand in silence, hand in hand. A few moments pass. Enid isn’t crying. They both just stand and breathe in the revelation in the air.
“You know, this is the first time you’ve held my hand.”
“That’s far from the truth,” She says, confused at the conclusion.
“I mean,” Enid chuckles. “The first time you held my hand. Not the other way around.”
“Oh,” is all she can say. Her face almost flushes with the knowledge that Enid studied their moments of touch. Her hands give a small squeeze.
“I’ve always found your touch to be… different,” She admits.
It’s been only them, hand in hand, this whole time.
“Me too,” Enid replies.
They don’t pull apart for the rest of the day.
1
Enid sent one photo.
Yoko: holy shit
Ajax: it’s happening, it’s happening, everybody stay calm!
Bianca: is wednesday holding her hand
: she looks like a baby all cradled up
Yoko: laying in bed, cuddling??????
Divina liked an image.
Kent: Wait, are you guys a thing?
Divina: i’m-
Bianca: fucking finally
: ajax, you owe me 10 bucks
Wednesday: Don’t be so proud of yourselves.
: Did you actually place trivial bets?
Xavier: at the sleepover, ajax u owe me 10 too
Ajax: damn it
Wednesday: How did you know to bet? Did you have a vision?
Bianca: no, you’re just hella obvious
Yoko: little wednesday so small and nice and a SIMP
Wednesday: Watch your back tomorrow. My knife collection is primed.
Yoko: like you’d hurt me
Wednesday: Is that a challenge?
Yoko: enid would be mad at u
Yoko sent a mock-crying GIF.
Divina: get roasted
Bianca: actually get fucked
Wednesday left the group chat.
Enid: really guys
Yoko: :)