Chapter Text
Wednesday remembers that day in crisp, clear details - as if it had happened just yesterday.
A blistering hot day in June, she was only five years old and still at the mercy of her parents’ decisions; and they had decided to go out that day. How woefully hilarious it is, that a single decision - that such a mundane desire to spend some time outside in horrid weather with family, brought Wednesday to her current state. That is fate for you, beautifully cruel in all the right ways; though if Wednesday ever gets the chance, she will strangle fate with its own thread for doing this to her. No one can torment Wednesday Addams and get away with it.
But, setting personal grudges aside, indeed it had been a summer day in June when Wednesday met Her. Had they been older, had Wednesday been a bit wiser; she would have fallen to a knee at that moment and presented her bleeding heart to Her. However, she was five, and didn’t understand the sudden whirl of bats in her tummy when she saw Her. She simply thought it was indigestion from the ice cream her father bought for her; it had been overly sweet, even for licorice flavor.
She came bounding over like an eager puppy, a big smile showing off her missing canine. She burned brighter than the sun with her exuberance, blue eyes sparkling like a turquoise sea under a warm sky. Oh, how Wednesday’s little black heart had pounded away at her rib cage, utterly lost for words at the sudden appearance of this sunny girl.
And then the blonde had spoken, her voice sweet and high like a birdsong as she proclaimed, “hi I’m Enid Sinclair! You’re really pretty, I like your dress, what’s your name?”
“...Wednesday, Wednesday Addams.”
It was on that day in June, under the shade of an oak tree at a park, that Wednesday Addams fell in love.
Wednesday is roused from her light slumber by the careful raps of her mother’s knuckles against the door. Morticia waits a moment before entering, needing no permission from her daughter to set foot in the bedroom. Wednesday watches listlessly from the comfort of her bed as her mother glides to the other side of the room to the drawn curtains of her window.
“Morning, Wednesday, how are you feeling today?” Morticia asks as she pulls back the black-out curtains, letting in the light of an overcast day.
“Dreadful.” Wednesday’s voice comes out as a small croak.
Morticia whirls around and makes haste to her daughter’s side with a soft croon, “oh, my little bug, that is wonderful to hear, shall we take advantage of this awful mood then?”
Wednesday huffs, giving her mother a hard stare, “do you know me for preferring to rot away in my bed?”
“No, I suppose not,” Morticia chuckles as she gingerly removes the weighted blanket from Wednesday’s petite form. “Then let us prepare for the horrors of today.”
Wednesday sighs as the tender touch of her mother helps her up in bed, but Morticia steps away after, knowing that the gloomy girl favors doing things on her own when it’s a good day. Wednesday snatches up her cane from where it leans against the wall right next to her bed; pouring most of her weight onto it, and using what meager strength she has, she lifts herself out of bed. Her knees creak like the decaying branches of a dying tree, but the pain is mild today; her spine doesn’t scream with every step she takes, it only whines and cracks as she bends and twists her torso.
Morticia hovers about in case of a fall; they’ve made the mistake in the past of trusting a good day, and it had almost resulted in Wednesday falling down the stairs. It was fortunate that Pugsley had been walking with his sister to dinner that night. As much as she complains and shows her disdain toward her family’s constant worry, Wednesday knows without it, she would not be alive right now. Their love is the only reason she keeps going most days.
Once she is dressed and her hair brushed and made into twin braids, Wednesday leads the march down the stairs to the dining room; Morticia right in step with her shadow. The clicking of her cane announces her present before she even appears in the doorway, for her family is already looking at her with smiles the moment she rounds the corner. Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes as she makes her way over to her seat.
“Hello family,” she mutters, leaning her cane against the edge of the table as she rests and leans back in the plushness of her chair. Morticia gracefully slides into the seat at the head of the table, Wednesday sitting to her left, and Gomez to her right.
“My little widow! You are looking especially grim this morning!” Wednesday winces at the jovial volume of her father’s voice, but nonetheless it settles into her and fills her chest with poisonous affection.
“Thank you, father, your voice is terrible to hear as always.”
Lurch lumbers over to Wednesday’s side, placing a bowl of porridge before her with a long, mournful moan. She nods her thanks before taking up her silverware and begins to eat.
“Pugsley, dear, no bombs at the table,” Morticia reminds her son as Gomez fills her wine glass with a rich red liquid.
Pugsley pouts, but stops his tinkering upon the little, spiky sphere in his lap. His mood quickly lifts though, as he looks to his older sister with a toothy smile, “hey Weds, can we hangout today?”
Wednesday glances at him from the corner of her eye, pausing just as she dipped her spoon back into her porridge. “Perhaps in the afternoon, if I still have the stamina by then.”
Pugsley nods, “we don’t have to do anything crazy, I just want to spend some time together before...before you leave...”
“Ah, of course...very well, we can go fishing, and then you can show me some of your latest bits of machinery before dinner.”
Pugsley smiles as if he was being sentenced to death by electric chair. “Yes! I can’t wait!”
Wednesday huffs softly in amusement, her eyes narrowing fondly as she goes back to her breakfast. The morning passes by as usual; Uncle Fester had arrived late to breakfast with Pubert tucked up under his trench coat - both of them covered in soot and ash from who knows what sort of mischief. Wednesday goes to the kitchen briefly to greet Grandmama with a kiss upon the cheek, the old crone cackling in delight as she shoves a pouch into Wednesday’s hand; the gloomy girl is quickly sent out with a returned kiss to the forehead, and then a shouted “GET!”
Wednesday ties the pouch to a belt loop, knowing that the small bag of deer hide is filled to the brim with her favorite snack - crickets coated in a hardened shell of honey. She plucks one out, a faint smile on her face as she pops it into her mouth, and crushes it between her molars. It’s the small things that bring the most joy in life.
Soon enough she finds herself walking down the gravel path that leads to the small lake on their lands. Pugsley raced ahead, with Pubert giving chase, their little brother having decided to tag along once he heard about the outing. Wednesday watches them, a sorrowful twist in her gut, as the laughing boys dig up buried memories.
Enid laughs, and laughs and laughs and laughs; while Wednesday stands there with crossed arms, and a frown that is definitely not a pout. “I do not understand what is so funny about this, Sinclair,” the smaller girl snarls out, the sharp tone losing some of its intimidation as Wednesday stomps a foot. “I find myself in a time of great sorrow, and I had come to you looking for sympathy, but instead you chortle at my misery?!”
“Sorry, sorry! It’s just - it’s so - it’s such a weird thing to be upset about!” Enid giggles a few times, though she is coming down from her giggle fit high.
Wednesday huffs, a scowl turning down her lips, “it is not! I do not wish to have a sibling!”
“But you get to be a big sister!” Enid grins big and wide, she’s missing another tooth, the other canine. “I wish I could be a big sister, my brothers are meanies, but if I was the big one, I’d be super nice and play with them all the time!”
“My offer to teach them a lesson still stands,” Wednesday grumbles, dropping her arms with a huff.
“Wenny, you can’t, they’re way bigger than you!”
“And?”
Enid shakes her head, she reaches out and grabs one of Wednesday’s hands; Enid’s hand is warm and clammy, her fingers wrapped up tight in colorful band-aids. Wednesday holds on tightly to the blonde’s hand as she is dragged to the swings.
“I think you’ll be a great big sister!” Enid shouts, slight bounce to her steps, “you’re really nice, and cool, and super-duper smart! And just think of all of the games you can play with your sibling!”
“Hm, I suppose it would be...nice, to have someone to torment, since you do not run away from me in fear.”
Enid giggles, “what’s there to be scared about? You’re so pretty! And you bring me candy all the time!”
“I do not, those are meant for me,” Wednesday hisses softly, “you simply stick your thieving hands into the bag.”
Enid gasps, she lets go of Wednesday as she whips around, “No I don’t! You held it out to me!”
“I did not.”
“Yes you did!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“Sinclair, you have a five second head start before I skin you and make you into a new rug for my bedroom.”
Enid squeals, peals of laughter leaving her lungs as she twists around and takes off like a racehorse. Wednesday only gives the blonde three seconds; she wasn’t that nice, despite what Enid might say. However, anyone watching the two little girls could clearly tell that the darkly dressed girl barely made an effort to actually grab the little werewolf.
“Weds? You doing alright?”
Wednesday blinks once, her focus coming back to the present. Pugsley and Pubert stood a few feet away, expressions of concern on their faces as they stopped their little game of tag to check in on her. Wednesday huffs, she waves her hand as she starts walking once more.
“Worry not about me, let us keep going, we shouldn’t waste such a horrendous day like this.”
Wednesday reaches into her pouch and pulls out another honey coated cricket, she sighs quietly as she throws it into her mouth. “You truly are an impressive thief,” she whispers to the wind, “to have stolen my heart like this, Enid.”
The gray clouds that had hung over the manor all day finally grew dark and fat with rain. A heavy downpour battering away at the house, creating a lovely background noise for Wednesday. The gloomy girl sat at her desk, her hands loosely folded in her lap while her head was tilted against the backrest of her overstuffed leather armchair. It looks as if she had fallen asleep, her eyes closed and her face serene; but the truth is she’s wide awake, daydreaming of past summers and a girl with blue eyes.
Until there’s a soft rapping at her door.
Wednesday half opens a single eye as the door is opened, she hears the near silent footsteps of her mother as she enters the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click, and then the footsteps slowly approach her. Wednesday turns her head to catch sight of Morticia, looming beside the armchair with a fond smile on her blood red lips.
Morticia reaches down and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Wednesday’s ear, the gloomy girl closes her eye as she leans into the touch. “I see you’ve undone your hair yourself.”
“Headache,” Wednesday mumbles, and then sighs as her mother starts running her fingers through her hair.
“You have also changed into your pajamas, are you ready for bed, my little bug?”
Wednesday nods once, heaving out a breath through her nose as she opens her eyes and sits up. She allows her mother to help her to her feet and support her the short distance to her bed. Wednesday groans quietly as she lays out on her back, sinking into the comfort of her mattress. Morticia pulls the weighted blanket up to Wednesday’s chin, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead.
“I love you, Wednesday.”
“I...I love you too, mother.”
As Wednesday settles down, her eyes drifting close; Morticia goes around the room to quickly tidy up anything left out. When she comes to Wednesday’s desk though she pauses momentarily seeing the sheet of paper left out. She caps the ball-point pen and places it in its proper spot within the beak of the taxidermy raven on Wednesday’s desk. She cleans up the crumpled papers left to litter the floor around the desk. Morticia hesitates on the freshly written letter, but then she picks it up with a reverences befitting for holding a holy object.
My Dearest Enid,
Pardon my shaky penmanship, it has been some time since I last wrote by hand, but I have found myself in need to lay out my words by hand rather than by my typewriter. As much as I treasure my writing instrument, it cannot capture the same feeling, the same honesty, that a personally written letter shows. Every curve and curl speak so passionately, exposing the writer’s emotions with the ease in which they dot their i’s and cross their t’s. I am sure you can tell then, that writing like this causes me nothing but agony, but still I do it, because you deserve to read words drawn up by my heart.
Apologies, I did not start this letter to simply tell you of my woes. I actually had quite a dreadfully pleasant day, my aches were mild, a rare blessing these days. I spent the afternoon fishing with Pugsley and Pubert, seeing their smiles and hearing their laughter...it reminds me of us, and it makes my bones crack with longing. I grew tired afterwards, a shame for I had also promised Pugsley that I’d view his inventions; I will have to make it up to him before this summer ends.
This is why I began to write to you. I am leaving home soon, and I am unsure of myself. You have always been so confident, gung-ho about everything you did; I hope you still are. I could use some of that excitement, for you see I am starting college, I’ll be attending Nevermore Academy.
In my current state of physical health, many would say I shouldn’t be going, but for once I agree with my parents; I cannot stay within this manor, within my bedroom, in my bed, and let the days slip by. I need to get out of the house, see a bit more of the world, and what better way to do that than send me away to Vermont? It sounds cruel, doesn’t it? My parents sent me away to some boarding school to be someone else’s burden; unfortunately my parents would never. I can see it now, my father will be wailing, holding onto me until Lurch is forced to remove him from my person, like a tick. My mother will fuss until she has gray hair, most likely check my luggage ten times to make sure I have everything; she’ll probably also bribe my roommate to take care of me.
Oh, and there’s that too. I will be having a roommate; with my condition I will be forced to live with a stranger. I’d much prefer they put a bullet into my head, take me out of my misery...I’m sorry, that was unnecessarily morbid...I appreciate the care my family shows me, immensely, but some days...my darker thoughts get the best of me. Hopefully this roommate of mine is kind, like you, my sweet Enid, otherwise I might have to kill them.
I must end my letter here; my hand is cramping, and the hour grows late. The rain outside is lulling me to a peaceful mindset. It brings me memories of when we would sit together in this very space, huddle close with mugs filled with warm drinks; hot chocolate for you, with marshmallows and whip cream, and of course I with my tea - black, but I always let you add a spoonful of honey, because you always wanted to share drinks and refused anything that wasn’t as sweet as you.
I am always thinking of you.
Forever yours,
Wednesday
“I miss her.”
Morticia closes her eyes at the softness of her daughter’s voice. Tears cling to her long lashes, and she quickly sets the letter back down in fear of staining the paper with her sorrow. Morticia grabs Wednesday’s cane from where it leaned against the desk and moves back over to her daughter’s bedside.
Wednesday stares up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes.
Morticia sets the cane against the wall, within reach of Wednesday, before she bends down. She cradles Wednesday’s cheeks, and bestows another kiss to her daughter’s brow.
“Do you think I will ever see her again?” Wednesday asks, voice hollow and close to cracking.
“I cannot say for sure, my little raven, but there is nothing wrong with hoping, and wanting.”
Wednesday closes her eyes, a single tear escaping her. “It hurts so much.”
Morticia’s eyes flutter, holding back her own tears as she wipes away her daughter’s. “What can I do for you?”
“...Stay, for a little longer.”
“Of course,” Morticia croons, sitting down on the edge of Wednesday’s bed; she slowly cards her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “Anything for you, my dear.”
Wednesday pulls down the blanket to her waist, her eyes only opening to help her in reaching out and grasping her mother’s free hand. Her eyes shut once more the moment Morticia squeezes her hand lightly.
Slowly, she falls asleep, to the caring touch of her mother, and the lullaby made from the raging storm outside, and Morticia’s tranquil humming.