Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was when she watched those teeth.

Those sharp, glittering pearls that looked so gorgeous against the Hyde’s throat.

Maybe even that warning growl over her slaughtered prey, before she realized just who this beast was.

Glowering blue eyes that shimmer in lapis tinted threat up until its name was uttered. Like the wolf was waiting for her command all along.

But…Wednesday can’t pin it down to one singular moment. She’s intelligent enough to abide in the sciences that make sense.

A theory proven fact is all she cared to acknowledge; cause and effect were one of those things. It technically breached beyond a periodic table—laws of matter, this or that.

Reaping what you sow. An eye for an eye. 

The grand circle of karma.

Thats what she had felt her initial enrollment into Nevermore had been. Her karma for near fatal injury towards another, though she felt it far deserved. Hollowly, she’s well aware of consequence.

It felt like punishment being roomed with someone like Enid.

The final knot in her noose, before her feet are kicked under her. The suffocating, pink asphyxiation to her senses with frilly, fruity smells and sounds. It had driven her mad, up until she had promptly exited at Wednesday’s uncanny ability to drive everyone away.

And then it struck, like a hatchet through flesh.

Wednesday quite likes being driven mad.

She had been notorious in declaring that she’d prefer her Uncle Fester’s fate, leading with absolute insanity. Unabashedly an Addams, tied down by nothing lovely.

And technically speaking she didn’t find Enid to be such. She was shrill, an over achiever and had issues with boundaries. To beat a dead horse—the anomaly of it all was far more than the mystery she’d dumped her everything into instead.

She thinks she was naive to think she could cope without Enid.

When she had seen the girl bloodied after her transformation—not immediately after, no that hug had been life affirming on both ends. She can admit that much, with the adrenaline coursing like a syringed dosage to her vein.

She still doesn’t know who’s heart was beating faster.

It was seeing Enid in the infirmary after that cemented it. The wolf’s desperate grip around Wednesday had loosened first during the hug, ironically enough.

“You fool, you’re shaking like a twig.”

“I…I had to make sure…you were alive.”

Enid had used the last of her strength to make sure she was still breathing. Wednesday could only hold the weakened wolf in her trembling arms.

Foolish, stupid wolf.

She experienced many things for the first time that night. Genuine fear being one of them.

She watched Enid in that hospital bed, glued to a flimsy fold out chair. It was in a tent set up outside due to lack of space for those in worse condition. Wednesday had called the professionals ignorant, in regret of the more colorful words she actually used.

Scratches streaked the left side of her face, along with gashes to her shoulder and bite marks to her legs. Blood had made Wednesday uncharacteristically (and uncontrollably) tremble, as if she bled candy pink too. 

Enid was dying in her eyes. Enid didn’t have Goody Addams to magically heal her fatal wounds.

But—she had apparently acquired latent werewolf healing. The only wound that didn’t heal being her hands.

Specifically her palm.

The mark of the beast, with the five pronged star of a pentagram marked by scars at the tips. Like a map of its path, a symbol of her newfound status.

Everyone would know what she’d been through that night. There would be no more question of Enid Sinclair’s ability.

Still, she had sat by blonde’s side. She had only ‘left’ long enough to turn her body so gauze may be administered to her more bothersome wound. The cursed arrow she’d taken for that snake who shouldn’t have been involved to begin with.

She supposed it made up for her original false accusation. Certainly it was taking up enough of her time, as a jail cell would.

Wednesday had shooed him away once, or twice already. Once when she tired of his apologies and second when he thought Bianca’s presence meant his was also warranted.

She preferred the silence of that early morning. When everyone else had finally retired enough to recoup for the next day to come. Her body was stiff and her back was burning, but she couldn’t sleep. 

Like a part of her was waiting for round two. As if she’d been in any state to defend either of them. Still, she certainly would’ve tried. 

It was fascinating in a morbid sort of way. How werewolf biology works once the wolf has been recognized.

Enid seemed to heal a new patch of skin with every hour. She’d come back from the bathroom or an aside from Thing, or Bianca and wounds would be newly scarred over.

Speaking of which, Bianca had unfortunately made it her job in absence of Weems to breathe down her neck. Like she feels bad for her in hindsight.

Wednesday didn’t process pity well. No emotion left her well, honestly.

She thinks thats why she felt like scratching off her skin the longer she’d sat. Fighting urges to do doting things like fix Enid’s pillow, or more alarmingly adjust the hair from her eyes. She justified it with wanting her to awake without hazard.

She justified a lot of things with guilt. Its easier to stomach than the looming truth.

When she clings to Enid after she wakes, checking up on her every need. Metaphorically speaking, as if she fears her own touch for more reasons than mentally. Ultimately she knows why she keeps a film of worry around her doting.

She can’t trust herself, with how hard her pulse thrums in her palm. Enid needed to heal, not…deal with…this.

She didn’t even want to come to grasp this.

Its easy to say it makes sense considering the vastness of her injury. To be careful not to touch, or take too much. They did both almost come to pass—the thought of which does send something visceral thrusting into her gut.

Air leaves her lungs when Enid does.

And Enid had almost taken her last breath that day…because of her. Even if it had not been by her hand, Wednesday felt she carried destruction with her. It was typically a source of pride.

She’s an Addams. Enid was not.

She’s such a pitiful creature during that winter break. 

She doesn’t visit Enid. She keeps contact, but she tells herself its best she doesn’t bother. Enid’s enjoying her time with her family for once.

Its never the right time to interrupt. To burden them both with it. Even when everything hurts.

Its the first time she feels her immune system waning as the curse infects her.

Excited texts had come through on the device she’d been given from the sheepish and apologetic hands of their classmate.

They literally r throwing me a parade !!! Omg Weds

Blood moon wolves are hella rare i guess?

They suddenly wanna throw all these responsibilities on me

Ive met so many ‘eligible bachelors’ today haha

At least I have a mate already lol 

Those in particular made her heart lurch the most. Each for different reasons of varying ability to rationalize. 

Mate.

Wednesday had heard it all. Facetimes filled with her twinkling eyes, calls with background noise of congratulations, texts of ‘sorry for late response <3’

Though she’s never outright forgotten, she can’t help but feel that way. Like balled up paper from a draft that didn’t read right. The wax from her candle that accumulated at the sides. An afterthought.

She doesn’t know why it matters with Enid. She’d never cared for friends, so she’s not the slightest idea.

But she does—she’s recollecting because she knows.

Her position as Enid’s friend brings her pain for reasons she’d never anticipated. Its why she steered away from such juvenile things like them to begin with. She wished solitude still helped.

It hurts far more to stay away. Physically, mentally and spiritually the curse had latched itself to her life source like cancer. 

She aches with distance and hollowed out petulance that she’s refusing to define. Its silly and irrevocably beneath her—yet.

She feels something nasty, knowing how  long everyone else took. She’s always thought Enid’s mark on this world something massive; she’d called it indelible for lack of anything else encompassing as such.

She saw Enid first, like the spoiled child she’d often been called. Pinned it down to that territorial nature she must have inherited.

Watching her suddenly be thrust into further popularity and acceptance amongst her pack, her peers, her family—she should be happy for her. Instead of this selfish urge.

Especiaally towards the gorgon, who had nearly fumbled his chance—at least he never threatened her life. He’d done far more to keep her safe.

She can’t say the same, can she? Entangled in her Raven’s nest, Enid had come out battered and bloody.

Its a double edged sword she’s impaled on. Wednesday’s a hypocrite. 

Blame her genealogy. Only, thats exactly the problem…isn’t it? Addams carry the curse in their heart. It manifests into this chemical compounded poison. 

She refuses to call it love.

~

She feels like she blinks and suddenly she’s aged again.

Still pretending, still shadowing the wolf above ground. As raven should, simply observing. 

The break before their senior year brings creaks to her joints. In her young age, she feels her fingers lock up and head throbbing with pressure. 

She’d only left their dorm for a week.

Her parents are throwing a banquet of sorts, to celebrate Pubert going into preschool. She invites Enid on a whim.

Her body snaps back like elastic, muscles relaxing as if she’d never had a pain in the world. 

Her family loves Enid. Too much so.

Her parents especially, with these glances that flit back and forth between the two girls. Drawing connections with their pupils in every movement, every time Enid even breathes in her direction.

Its torturous to swallow. They’re making it so obvious.

And she’s so damn charming in that way Enid just is. Bringing them cookies on her flight that had gotten dreadfully crushed under pressure.

“Ah…they were supposed to be little ghosts,” Enid had laughed sheepishly at unraveling her treat.

Gomez hums, grabbing a bite and moaning his delight at the frosting.

“Delicious!” He had exclaimed, before patting Enid roughly on the shoulder. To the wolf’s and her own embarrassment in his antics. Yet, her father winks, “They could pass for spirit orbs of different shapes, don’t you think?”

The plate is practically licked clean (by Pugsley) by the end of the night. Wednesday had her share and they were devine; like Enid in form of sustenance. Sweet, with a pinch of salt in her batter that Wednesday can taste.

She’s made her demise all the more imminent.

That evening, she’d been coaxed into the greenhouse. Her mother postured like she just needed Wednesday’s opinion on the diet of her flytraps. 

Her mother then tries to ask for more, subtly and coy. Prodding between tending. Mentioning something about about colors—the first sign of discretion. Then segue to textures that would feel best against her sensitive skin…

“For your future nest, dear.” Morticia had mentioned softly, smiling down at her like she’s said something peculiar.

Wednesday is truly cruel to her mother for the first time that night. The anger she feels had been building, needing to take reign because she just can’t.

Her mother likely doesn’t deserve it taken out on her. Wednesday has always been selfish, though.

And Morticia doesn’t flinch. She never looks anything more than sympathetic towards her daughter, because damn her—she thinks she’s seen everything. Telling Wednesday it will be ok.

“Your attempts at comfort are unnecessary and irrelevant. She is already with her fated.”

She storms back to her quarters without apology.

She can’t bare to ponder anything beyond her guilt by proximity. The way her insipid feelings bled into the sanctity of this charade.

Enid was a guest, nothing more. In fact she’d be catching a flight from Jersey to Greece after this. The morning after…Wednesday would be accompanying her to the airport.

To be with her boyfriend. Her mate.

Morticia didn’t question it, but she looked to be apologetic where Wednesday was simply bitter.

The sugar, mixed with dinner and sips of wine; her stomach churns and churns that night.

Enid shares her bed too. Tells her she loves her, before she hops onto the plane. Embraces her, encompassing her in Daisy parfume.

A desperate, pathetic corner of her heart (the one hollowed out with a space just big enough for someone of a certain size) wants to fulfill a cliche. Tell her to stay, tell her that she loves her too—indubitably.

Unconditionally. Instead she waits til she sees the plane leave the ground.

It bubbles up in her gut. All of it finally gushing from her throat in form of acidity bile.

She pukes in the airport bathroom.

And then she ages again.

~

Another stint in Ophelia hall, but this time it’ll be the last.

Another year feeling the altitude of the mountain she’d built between them. Maintained its grass and added to its peak. Yet, they were really only a few feet apart. The space of their dorm room felt gratuitous with the veil she made.

She never ignored Enid. She couldn’t if she tried.

She simply learned to cope.

She wanted, though. Like a needy little seed that had planted when she was only sixteen. It had sprouted and long over grown its enclosure, branches awkwardly tangling and roots bursting from the dirt. Her thirst so great, it sprouts large and encompassing new leaves that fan when she receives what rain she can.

She remembers Enid had given her a journal. For her most recent birthday, but a week ago. She’d turned eighteen and had ‘deserved something special,’ so Enid had hunted her a literal hide. Had sent in some favors through all her club connections and turned it into leather.

The journal itself was crafty, as the wolf had been proud to try and sew it. Working with thick hide vs yarn was a challenge that could be seen in the seams, but Wednesday couldn’t help but crack it open every night.

Eye the pages for hours before she decides she hasn’t come up with anything worth spoiling it with, yet.

It rained and hailed on her insides. Her favorite weather. Soaked her feverish and flushed. Lungs stuffed with gooey smitten nothings; she’d much prefer phlegm.

Enid had this way of insisting on these gestures, dripping in her sentiments and genuine care. Wednesday hates that it quells that sour, vinegar esque emotion that she normally has a harder time swallowing down. Especially as the blonde grows more popular as her wolf develops.

Wednesday had noticed…Enid’s grown much stronger, less clumsy and well rounded. Grown into her skin so to speak, but especially her fangs.

Her wolf was glorious, standing tall amongst the others during full moons.

She wears the mark on her hand with great pride. Often traced it with her thumb in class, patterned of the star in criss crossed motion. Wednesday traced enough with her own eyes to know—longed to do so with a press of lips. 

And it shouldn’t entice her so, but it enraptures. It leaves her so full, until the guilt of reality hit.

When after class Enid would go off with Ajax.

When she came home late, smiling and talking about Ajax.

She’d tsk to herself and perhaps ask Thing for a wake up slap to the face, but she’s not alone currently. Enid’s still in the room, bouncing on her toes to something slow and in Korean. Swaying hips that Wednesday’s been fervently avoiding in favor of typing…something instead.

Viper was…being tortured. Yes, that sounds about right. Wednesday can write a new series alone on just that.

“I thought you and Bianca were like cool nowadays,” Comes suddenly from behind. Wednesday turns minutely, seeing Enid had finished her hair. Its curled and split pink and blonde in symmetry with the checkered pattern of her top.

Wednesday does good to think of someone else.

Bianca Barclay, an unlikely but begrudgingly welcome ally in her time here. A welcome distraction, certainly. She served as something like a confessional—Wednesday thinks indulging the girl with her presence and personal business to be something like that.

Like a poor man on his last leg, pouring his guilt to a pew. Only most of the time she feels crucified, forced into these meaningless ‘girl talks’ that she barely tolerates from Enid.

Still, an ally that she’s been in treaty with for a few years now.

“Barclay has done well to tread on the correct side of pond.” Wednesday supplies as even as she can. Enid’s analyzing her hard, all done up and glimmering lips. She feels no better than her father.

But Enid then blows out an exasperated puff of air.

“Then why won’t you come tonight?” Enid pouts, dramatically stumbling her way to her side of the room. She hops onto Wednesday’s desk to sit when she realizes the lack of reaction to her antics.

She huffs again, legs swishing before her foot taps Wednesday’s shoulder. The brunette looks to her sharply, not wanting to be tested anymore than she is daily.

“I have already spent over an hour with Barclay in not only class, but practice,” Wednesday grits with memory. The way the siren had teased her about the possibility of it being a ‘double date.’

Perhaps sirens shared brain capacity with the fish they live amongst. Wednesday is tense, tapping fingers on the keys but not pressing down. Trying to look busy, maybe even faux annoyed.

“She was no more successful in convincing me.” She concludes with finality, willing herself not to look too deeply into those eyes.

“Ok, but…I’m like your best friend,” Enid stressed, leaning just a bit closer. She had this way of looking up at Wednesday through her lashes that could command an army. Internally, as soon as she smiles—Wednesday knows her fate. “I was here first…and I want you to go.”

And its not at all fair.

Cheating, playing dirty, and grey morals were normally heartwarming to her. She just feels played—checkmate and sunken. Under pools of blue like crashing waves that drown her measly, dreary row boat.

And to think she had only just begun to bat those big lashes in Wednesday’s direction.

“Fine.”

/

She learns early on to keep outside during these needless things.

Enid’s invited her to many festivities and she’d agreed to some and been forced into far more than she would admit to. It’s embarrassing the creature she’s reduced to when it comes to her friend.

She thinks lack of all else makes it more glaring.

Solved mystery of the Hyde. Tyler and his father were no longer even in Jericho. Had moved away from it all with fleeting letters on the Hyde’s progress and control. Tyler still considered her something like a confident, apparently. 

Wednesday kept that to herself, in lieu of having a spare card up her sleeve.

The stalker situation had been prompt and rather boring. Sloppy, honestly on Xavier’s part.

To seek revenge for his unrequited feelings and wrongful imprisonment, quite literally handing her a tracking device in form of a phone. She barely trusted it before she had even unlocked it.

Suffice to say, Enid had fun that day; Wednesday indulged the canine in a game of fetch with Xavier’s shoe after he’d been chased within an inch of his life. She had been furious where Wednesday had been mildly irked.

Fondly, she cracks a smile at the thought of her big bad wolf that day. Hmph.

Her life had become a stock of dreary boredom, lest she actively get herself into danger. It tended to follow her, being the raven she was. Goody had mentioned the lonely path—she still hears it in her dreams some nights, like being trapped in an echo chamber.

Even seance and feeble attempts at contacting family spirits garnered her nothing. Goody did not want to be brought back. Though, Wednesday supposed she’d been denied rest long enough.

And this path was a lonely one. She was correct in that it had to be. Only room for her woe…what was the phrase? Misery loved company. She thinks thats the only thing she has nowadays.

She busied herself with her mind. Practiced techniques that her mother recommended to better realize her talent. She no longer faints over a two second premonition.

She doesn’t intend it, but it became somewhat of a commodity. 

Her clientele—consisting of curious students and normies alike that wished to see if her seer abilities would tell them…whatever. Wednesday’s not truly sure what knowing of one’s death does for you. Her visions always came to pass. Its not like they could prevent it.

Though, she can admit they weren’t all fatal. The last girl had simply been warned of a broken limb on her trip home. Mundane, but still a draining amount of social interaction and assuring she didn’t want to be paid.

She breathes a sigh of how tired she is.

She sits under twinkling stars as they sit stilled in Scorpio season. Ironic, considering the urge of Mars—ruler of war, aggression and sex. Yes, this setting is quite fitting, she would suppose.

After the escapades her first semester here, some of the normies had begun to consider them fascinating. Rather, ‘cool’ and ‘badass’ were thrown around with dialect she’s unfamiliar.

It gave them places to go to perform the more stereotypical and heinously teenage deeds such as these parties. Ironically being thrown at the house of one of the boys Wednesday had flipped onto his back at the Weathervane way back when.

She sits back with her hands in the grass, hearing the pattering of her long time comrade and possible blood. Thing was but a hand at the end of the day—they treated him as family and it was all she’s known of him, so…

She snorts at the way he appears: streamer wrapped around his fingers and palm with a plastic hat atop his stump.

‘What? I’m having fun for the both of us! And I am undefeated in beer pong.’

“I’m absolutely delighted for you, truly.” Wednesday deadpans hard as she can, only satisfied when Thing makes his gesture of ‘fuck off.’

‘Enid will be looking for you soon.’

Wednesday hums and then stares ahead, presuming the girl would be tired too by now. The way the air is, and shadow in the night implies the time is getting rather late. Though, the curfew had been stretched the more they mingle with normie students.

Integration into the town came with a few perks, admittedly.

She’s not at all surprised to see Enid’s not alone when she comes calling. The blonde tended to carry cargo—or, friends as she often corrects. This one being the vampire girl, dressed in a leather outfit that could akin to her own gothic wardrobe. The fang was also doing a lot of the leg work, balancing a teetering and squirmy girl.

Like an eager puppy seeing a new stimuli.

“Wednesday! Not Monday, or Tuesday, but Wednesday,” Enid sings surprisingly on key with her slurring. Yoko looks at her dead on, eyes screaming for help.

“Yeah you over grown puppy, your owner’s here to pick you up.” Yoko grumbles, barely catching her friend before she falls on her face.

Wednesday shares a glance with Thing, unsure if she should be amused or not. She’s never seen her friend this…out of it. They often go to these parties, but Enid had been more reluctant to partake in alcohol.

Wednesday knows all too well the girl would more likely be smoking with her boyfriend. Apparently its better to ‘take the edge off,’ though Wednesday would prefer to do so in far less pleasant ways.

So, to see her red faced, eyes unfocused and barely in step—its different.

“Why did you allow her to get this intoxicated?” Wednesday questioned as she raises from the ground. She steps closer to them, an unspoken second question in her eyes.

“First off, I’m her friend not her mom. Second, I literally snatched the third shot out of her hand, but she’s crafty AF when she’s wasted.” Yoko grumbles over that last point, beginning to wane under pressure of the eager wolf.

“I just asked Ajax, duh,” Enid giggles at her friend’s expense. “I’m literally fine, I told you like fifty times I just wanted to see Wednesday…hi.”

Enid gives her that patented smile and wink, but the drunkenness makes the eye closing a bit off kilter. Wednesday shows as such, giving a rather unimpressed look back.

“She won’t let me take her home.” Yoko says next, looking every bit as exhausted as one would after dealing with a child. At least Enid’s current happy go lucky laughter and ease felt very child like.

Wednesday’s eyes narrow, replaying that last bit of information with confusion.

“What about the gorgon?” Wednesday inquires and Yoko looks damn near shocked. As if she’s surprised that he’s being brought up.

Her distaste for the boy was infamous. Not many drew the correct conclusions, that of which she would deny even to herself. She just boils it down to learned misandry, because she didn’t keep company of any men, sans Eugene.

She’d even allowed whoever to consider her an ‘over protective’ friend. And she was—even if Enid was not hers.

She can’t help that craving for violence and rue that occurs when her heart is in danger. The wolf was but an extension of the organ she otherwise ignored. She can’t be ignorant to someone so…pink. Like an eye sore, and Lucifer knows she’s fond of contusions, cuts and blemishes.

Yoko rivals her in her sarcasm and dead pan, eyes looking her dead on.

“Did you miss the part where I said he was the one not cutting her off?” And to that perhaps she should have a word. Something slipped in his vape for playing with his supposed beloved’s tolerance.

“Very well then,” Wednesday grimaced, fearing what comes next. The intoxicated girl preens at the acceptance, practically leaping into her arms.

Because Enid’s the only one she lets touch her like this. At her own will, without asking or threat. It feeds the curse, keeps her happy and allows Wednesday to better control herself.

The vampire looks semi offended at how quickly she let go to throw herself. Considering the amount of ‘wrangling’ she had to allegedly do.

Enid had (apparently) been looking in the fridge for clues of Wednesday’s whereabouts and only appeared with a new white claw in hand.

Yoko explains the scene as Wednesday teeters on with Enid leaned into her.

The walk to the car is maddening. Enid’s insistence on breathing directly into her ear was its own intoxication. Yoko jokes if she’s ‘had a few,’ once her cheeks begin to flush.

But its like pulling teeth and staying silent, rather than exclaiming with glee. She’s never been…this close with Enid. It puts her padlocked box containing her stifled emotions to shame.

The murmurs in her ear periodically, like Enid’s whispering secrets. She does good to keep it out of ear sight of the vampire, but Wednesday holds doubt.

“I’ve missed you.”

“We never *hiccup* scuse me—we never hang anymore.”

“You’re always with Bianca.”

“Feels like you’re so far away now…”

Every sentence makes her grip tighten and Yoko glances at her suspiciously. Maybe even knowingly, considering the way she’s watching. Observing their interaction and not saying much outside of her recap.

She’s also driving them technically and far more sobered than even Wednesday with unexpected responsibility.

“Surprised to see you out tonight,” Yoko comments, once they get Enid in the back seat. Wednesday offers a hum in response, chancing a look to the side view.

Enid’s looking back at her with lidded, glazed over eyes. Thing is on her shoulder, likely trying to keep her awake and not vomiting on the interior.

“It was a request.” Wednesday replies after too long of a silence. And Yoko looking over at her, streets emptied of any other hazard this late. The vampire makes a noise of disbelief.

“Bianca’s gonna be pissed, she told me she even bought your psycho coffee order as a bribe.” Yoko teased, but it sounded awfully accusatory in context.

And then Enid has to make it worse, leaning her body forward to drape against her seat.

“I asked her to come…” Enid insists in presence and words.

Drunken audacity tempting her fingers to twirl one of her braids.

“Its not my job to keep your girlfriend satisfied.” Wednesday replies, flustered by the action and even more indignant at the way Yoko simply laughs.

When they park, it feels not much different. To the point Wednesday forgets to unbuckle, til Enid’s falling back in her seat and fiddling with her own. Finally, reprieve from puffs of smoke like dreams filling her ears in form of those whispered words and harsh breaths.

Enid had been feeling her up with those needy hands, along with sitting up in a moving vehicle. Ignoring Yoko’s chastising and Wednesday’s stiff posture.

She was certainly toeing a line—one more fragile than duct tape.

Enid’s wrapped herself around her back like gauze on a wound, once they exit the car. In an ironic sort of way, considering how much she knew she’d be hurting once the bandaid is ripped off.

(When Enid’s sobered up and calling her ‘bestie’ again. For the first time Wednesday thinks she prefers the cutesy nickname.)

Yoko snorts her humor, brow raising at how Wednesday makes no attempt to move. Little does she know, its taking entirely more effort to not be mutually greedy—bask in the feeling of warmth against her neck. To embrace void of inhibition and quelling her foolish heart.

It truly was a parasite, this Addams curse…wasn’t it? Feeding when it can, then laying ruin to her body and health when left idle.

Wednesday has to bite her tongue amongst other battered, scarred over parts of her cheek. From other times she’s tempted with desires so close.

“You gonna be able to get her up the stairs?” Yoko asks next as they approach their respective halls.

Enid snorts like the question is preposterous.

“Of course she can, Wednesday’s really strong,” Enid coos, arms going to cope a feel of her biceps. From where her head sits on the shorter girl’s shoulders she’s impish. “She trains all the time…right, Weds?”

Wednesday’s brow twitches with her waning sanity.

“Yes, I do believe this won’t be a difficult task,” Wednesday confirms with a tight nod. She vehemently ignores how amused the vampire in front of them looks, even as Enid wordlessly hops up at Wednesday’s tap to her leg. She makes a small noise at the weight, but its not much. She’s always been lanky, in contrast to the hulk of muscle and fur her wolf embodied.

She would bargain the girl more full of drink than anything else right now.

Yoko doesn’t part with them until they’ve made it to their room. She levels Wednesday with a strange look—thats all she can siphon from it, sunglasses and all that.

“Remember that she probably won’t in the morning…remember this, I mean.” Yoko makes a vague gesture between them. Wednesday clears her throat, Enid still against her back and giggling like its funny. The vampire huffs out a laugh too, “Yeah, good luck with that. See you tomorrow pup, don’t forget to have some water, yeah?”

She pats Enid’s redden cheek and gives Wednesday a smile of promise. Its certainly odd, but she’s never been in this position. Normally at functions her family tended to tire themselves out. Even amidst old quarrels and substances that exasperate the energy.

The brunette grunts as she gets the door open, ignoring the way Enid becomes more handsy. Its hard even with Thing helping. Those hands trying to massage her shoulders, then finger tips against her neck. She shivers, though Enid makes a disappointed sound that stops her from being dropped.

“I forget you aren’t like me…” She pouts, tracing fingers around the expanse of her neck. It elicits a shiver, as Wednesday tosses her onto her bed.

She brushes herself off, mourning the proximity internally. The parasite in her heart was making this far more than it needed to be.

She swallows down all she can, before she helps Enid get her shoes off.

“Mm, you gonna strip me all the way down?”

Wednesday drops the sneaker prompt at…that.

Her eyes dart up so sharply—if Enid were in her right mind she may have even been scared. Instead she has gall to look defiant, eyes lidded and…and—

“Get them off yourself then,” Wednesday replies with as little emotion she can and creates distance. She doesn’t face Enid anymore—she can’t. “I’ll fetch you a cup of water while you…figure that out.”

She doesn’t wait to hear anything else, ignoring the protests and calls of her friend. She only looks over to Thing, the hand looking rightfully scandalized in his place. He’s floundering for a moment, but Wednesday just shakes her head.

“Watch her.” The hand only half heartedly confirms before she goes to the bathroom.

Perhaps she should’ve told him to use her phone and contact the gorgon. Save her the trouble of picking up the pieces after.

She considers herself lucky, spared and atoned for some of her karma when Enid’s fast asleep upon her re entry. She sighs deeply, noting Thing was by the wolf’s side. He softly pat at her, earning animalistic grumbling.

Endearing, if not for how Wednesday felt in this moment.

She leaves the cup of water by Enid’s side and settles into bed herself. She doesn’t sleep a wink, knees up to her chest and watching the blonde’s chest rise and fall.

Chapter Text

“I cannot believe you dead ass came to a party I helped throw and I didn’t see you once,” Bianca scoffs from across the lunch table. She’s long abandoned her salad in favor of nosing over Wednesday’s life.

Race for valedictorian and upcoming final semester aside, she always found time to hop from her social ladder and trot around Wednesday’s space.

“I told you I wasn’t attending in the first place, so really you didn’t miss much.” Other than more fuel to her fruitless mission. Memories of a night she’d chosen to forget.

She absently bites the tip of a sweet potato fry. She didn’t care to hear Bianca speak, but the siren was rather persuasive. Be it the prodding that may or may not be true, or the fact that they technically almost died together.

Its also terribly refreshing—the word feels grossly sour to think, but true. She’d never admit it, either.

She has no feelings for Bianca that grow strong other than competitiveness. And irritation, but she thinks that her body has grown used to the migraines that follow ‘heart to scale’ talks.

“I heard you lost your dog, too?” Bianca tries next, looking cheeky and directly at her. “I was the first person she asked—‘Wheres Wednesday? Oh, I just have to find her and give her a big kiss!’ Meanwhile I had no idea you were even there…”

Its a terrible, half hearted impression. Wednesday just lets her have her fill, laughing to herself and cracking her jokes. She’ll tire of it, surely.

“I swear to god thats the reason she hates me so much.” Bianca throws in with an eye roll. She finally has another bite of her own food, taking time to chew and swallow primly.

Wednesday boredly leans against her elbow on her hand.

“Because of me?” Wednesday asks half amused, “And not because of the years of Poe cup sabotage and self flatulent attempts at being the reigning ‘queen bee?’”

Bianca just waves her off, like that couldn’t possibly be a factor.

“Old beef, honestly. She mean mugs me so hard whenever you talk to me,” Bianca grins, then shrugs. “Even I don’t get that mad when Yoko’s too busy up her ass and ignoring my texts.”

The other reason for the vampire’s misplaced staring. Bianca and her had been a recent development, the two begrudgingly declaring themselves an item.

Wednesday hasn’t noticed much different, really. She wishes they would spend more time together, then maybe she could enjoy her alone time.

“And in spite of your partner being in such proximity, you honestly believe she would consider such nonsense?” Wednesday turns her nose up at that.

Why would she even care? Enid had been overjoyed about double dates the second Yoko was coupled. Wednesday had spent an undisclosed amount of time playing out her anguish the last time she’d been fifth wheeled out.

Bianca still treats her like she’s the one acting odd. Like she’s the one operating on impossible pipe dreams. Silly, meaningless things like fate—she believes such to be true only in her suffering.

She thinks her lifetime is atoning for the sins of her family. Her raven’s path paved in the blood of others. 

However, she does notice Enid looking their way from across the cafeteria. She sits with Ajax and the stoners on Mondays. Her schedule was simply predictable at this point, is all that observation was.

Not that she’s been tracking her. Though, it does make it easier to avoid when necessary. To pretend.

(Even if Thing grows wearier at the accumulated amount of times he’d been asked to tail.)

She never breathed a word of…whatever that was. Enid’s drunken misspoken words had been just that. She hadn’t remembered a thing the next morning. Outside of the guilty apology at noticing Wednesday was awake so early.

“I remember you carrying me upstairs, though…” She had muttered, looking far away and bashful.

It was a welcome change; sharing feelings for Enid that were mutual, even if it was one unpleasant like mortification.

And even now from across the quad the wolf spares the same smile and squinting eyes as she always did. Stopping everything to make her naively feel important for a few moments.

Up until Wednesday finally remembers the arm of her boyfriend that lines her neck.

/

The next time is their anniversary of sorts.

Thats certainly a fluffed way of phrasing. To her internal monologue, she has no reason to coat it in padding. She could see it all around her regardless, with the way eyes tend to gaze her way in the halls as the day approaches.

Seeking out requited attention from the highly regarded ‘hero’ they falsely acclaimed her as. 

She tends to keep to herself on this day. This year, again she feels inclined to tag along. Fading scars that Enid doesn’t cover with concealer at request of her own ‘adoring fans.’

And Wednesday supposes she owes her that much.

(And so much more that she would surely spend her lifetime attempting to repay.)

Even though Enid begs and begs for her to quit acting like it was a ‘big deal’ and that she would ‘do it again.’ Save Wednesday’s life no matter the cost. She can’t expect Wednesday to hear that and not go insane.

Unfortunately, yes, their peers regarded them both as heroes, but Enid was far more deserving and fitting for that position. She answered all the questions, accepted the new found praise. Ever more social than Wednesday and more willing to face the masses.

Even Esther, her doting mother (eyeroll), had been treating her kindly. Accepted her ‘strong, brave’ daughter into the pack and thrown her high in the hierarchy. Busied Enid with suddenly valuing her opinion on pack business.

Wednesday gets bitter and dreadfully stab-by if she thinks about it too long…

Not in envy, no; for sake of her heart. She believes Enid to have done nothing other than what she’d always done. Be headstrong and so foolishly willing to self sacrifice.

A beam of light in darkness, with kindness in her heart for all creatures. And for someone like Wednesday no less, whom she’d also shared her first transformation.

Two years ago to the day now.

And again she’s in the woods. The chilly, bleak woods near some suburb in Jericho. Smelling nothing but pine mixed with firewood smoke and yeast from the criminal amount of beer.

She’s wandered away from even Thing, jacket bundling her in. She’s wearing the snood too, but it is getting rather cold as Fall darts to Winter. She refuses to drink to warm herself up, no matter how many times they chant for her to do a ‘keg stand.’

Ajax had been more than willing as she slipped away.

It was a bonfire to celebrate the past that she honestly preferred dead and gone. Just as the Galpins had fled town and her ancestor stayed but a tombstone. But, their classmates are adamant on making a fuss over it.

Last year they had set tradition to burn the semester’s papers in a pit, sneaking drinks and contraband. Wednesday just felt numb in memories.

She walks until she doesn’t hear chatter and then more so she no longer hears music either. Its also much darker, this time of night and covered in trees. She can see her breath, not warmed by alcohol like the others. She thinks its her own form of self harm, as drinking ones pain would be.

Regretfully, she doesn’t know if alcohol would even do much for her. Arsenic marinade and drizzlings of formaldehyde were featured in a lot of her meals. Her substance tolerance was far more than that of a grown vampire.

A pity, considering her circumstance.

She finds solace in a small clearing, enough that she can find the stars again. Still, she keeps shade as the moon peered down, new and dark rather than blood red. She still remembers that night all too vividly. Worse so the days after.

Up until of course her rest is interrupted, as it often is. And by telling squeaks of pink boots as it always is.

“What are you doing out here, silly?”

Wednesday cracks an eye open to look at her. Enid’s above her, hazy eyed and grinning. She exhales deeply, knowing all too well what the cause is. Especially considering the red solo cup that lolled in her hand.

Dripping tawny colored liquid on the ground.

The girl was teetering in general, til she’d gotten close enough to also balance against the tree.

“I was attempting to find peace of mind.” Wednesday replies easily, not entirely lying. Sometimes her morbid thinking was terribly honest, if nothing else.

“I can help with that!” Enid plops herself in Wednesday’s space once more. Rather ungracefully dropping her weight into her side as she sits. She seems to not notice or care of Wednesday’s comfort, only murmuring an, “Oopsie. Some blood wolf I am, huh?”

Wednesday can smell the alcohol on her breath this close. She can also tell when Enid’s being unkind to herself. She looks to the drunk girl and tries to rationalize, fruitless as it may be.

“They’re throwing you a party right now, are they not?” Wednesday asks rhetorically. Enid still pulls a face, something sour with glassy eyes thats different than the last intoxication. The goth girl shifts up a bit, tilting her head, “Its what you intended, is it not? I recall how saddened you were by your previously impending status as a
‘lone wolf.’”

Enid laughs something false. Its haunting really and not at all like her.

“I may as well be,” She scoffs, leaning to the side and head on Wednesday’s shoulder. Then she’s biting her lip, looking at her with sudden mirth in her situation. “You know none of that is real.”

With a snort and slap of a hand to her leg in great faux humor, Enid’s head rolls a little more into her neck. And Wednesday keeps tight lipped at that implication. She doesn’t trust most of the people with sudden interest in Enid.

Though, she also knows that not to be up to her. Nor does she want any question on why she cares. Theres only so much rudeness she can justify as normal…even for her.

“Surely the smell of burning wood and my headache from social interaction isn’t faulty.” Wednesday pretends and pretends. Keeps her voice steady and acts like her very being isn’t being viscerally tested.

Enid cuddles herself even closer, practically draping herself over her now, smile slipping and eyes just as hazy.

“They only do that stuff cause I have wolf clout now. Even messaging my mom to try to get to me, like….since when?” The humor fades to sorrow, mood swinging like a bat to the head. Enid buries her face under Wednesday’s jaw next. “All this attention its like…nice but also…not really.”

Temptation at her fingertips, she has to find her right mind. Enid’s certainly lost hers—very overtly scenting her as if there’s anyone to witness. There’s no doubt in it, as a steady stream of dug up flowers and fresh cut grass invade her nose. Digging beneath her skin to find pots for those blooming petals.

She’s happy for Enid’s haze if only because she doesn’t notice her scarlet cheeks and rising BPM.

“Even under the eye of your gorgon carry on?” Wednesday brings him up more for herself at this point. Since Enid’s inhibitions were non existent as were her boundaries.

Enid sits up quickly and Wednesday moves hands to catch and steady her. The werewolf just grabs her hands and links their fingers, finding her humor anew. She’s more firmly in Wednesday’s lap now, legs going to straddle clumsily.

Its almost like this was on purpose; sneaking away from the party to embrace amongst the solitude of trees and privacy by long branches. Cuddled up at the stump and trading quips about their classmates.

Only, she’s not being overtly biting about the gorgon. She speaks his name like a code, a password, a key to get this excessiveness to cease.

Wednesday is a cautionary person. She trusts not even herself, with inevitable human urge such as this.

“Its always nice with you, though Weds. Its real,” Enid speaks so softly, Wednesday could lay on pillow of her breath’s cold mist. She wills her eyes to focus forward, so she can avoid the vision of glossy pink lips.

She tries to tell herself her mind is playing tricks on her. Maybe she’d finally been driven mad, putting her poor organ through so much with no reward. To allow so much touch of something she would never acquire.

She’s almost certain Enid’s whispering against her lips—they’re so close. If she were stronger, perhaps when she was a bit younger and more hardened…she could’ve pushed her away.

But Enid kisses her and she tastes fruity bitterness, amidst saliva. Like the wolf had been drooling for her like a bone—that has to be wishful thinking.

A jester’s dance.

Even as she sighs her satisfaction and moves her hips forward to get impossibly close, as if she meld to Wednesday’s skin. Soft noises that will never stop ringing in her ears; cupping her cheeks and moaning at the way the goth’s teeth catch her bottom lip, and…

She’s drunk. This isn’t…

Wednesday is supposed to be the one with sense.

She stands and Enid falls to her back, hands grabbing at the legs of her jeans. Wednesday can still taste it, still feel her tongue prodding against her teeth. She swallows down the remaining notes of her taste, opting to keep her distance.

Enid has audacity to pout and Wednesday knows this will be a repeat offense. The drinking and not remembering.

“I think Yoko can help you this time. I will stay only until she finds us.”

Is all she offers, refusing to look at her any more. Once she’s made sure Enid sent the vampire a text and location. She leans against a seperate tree, listening to Enid’s soft breaths.

“Did I do something…wrong?” Its whispered like she’s apologizing already. Enid’s tone felt so undeserved.

Wednesday is the one at fault here. Enid can’t even stand on her feet.

Yoko doesn’t ask questions. She makes sure of that—her glare is cutting and she keeps her hand against a branch. 

“I’m heading back to the dorms,” Wednesday had tossed out, unable to fully face the vampire. Not with her so concerned and for both of them.

As if she has the gall to turn wood into stake, if the vampire so much as mentions it.

“I just wanted to make sure someone had eyes on her,” Wednesday adds, fingers fisting and unraveling. Her fingers felt hot, like trying to quell the after burn and itchy skin. “She’s wasted.”

She treks into the wood like a cryptid. Disappearing in twigs, early morning smog and remaining new moon light. Of course, the luminary had gone void this year. Perhaps it bled it out that day too.

She licks her lips only when she’s alone. When the smell of Enid’s lipgloss on her top lip becomes too much to bear.

Until the curse becomes parched, in spite of how much it’s been met. When lament creeps up her tongue and curls around her teeth. She brushes before bed twice.

Flosses a little too hard, leaving bloodied twine in the trash.

/

And she does good not to mention it.

Even as she knows alone. Deals with her curse alone.

Its how she would prefer to deteriorate if she must. She already lays on her back each night as a corpse would. For hours, letting the clock tick and prod, pound soft against her eyelids. Bruise them into bags as sleep evades her.

Enid didn’t even make it back to the dorm that night.

She never brought the gorgon back to their dorm…at least not anymore. Wednesday would be grateful if not for the reason. The day she naively ignored Enid telling her not to come home so soon, because she was having ‘girl time’ with Thing.

Allegedly, at least.

~

It had been when they returned from break, after the damage had been repaired and faculty accounted for. New principal in place and dorm mother for Ophelia hall.

“And I know you hate the smell of my nail polish and you hate hyperpop, kpop—any type of pop really…”

Wednesday had rolled her eyes at the text, not bothering to reply. Firstly, she would be daft to believe Thing wouldn’t have told her about this previously, as he was assisting her; Eugene had requested extra hands for jarring honey and wax.

Secondly…her distaste came from pure self preservation alone. She was quite taken by the chemical smell of her hot pink polish. Reminded her of where she was, in their room; often accompanied by those egregious tempos and loud noise of Enid’s music despite its low volume.

It had evolved from simply ‘I saw this rainbow in passing, now I’m thinking of you,’ but now she seeks it. Had laid her bed in it. There was no coincidence.

She thinks that day to have been such. She thinks she needed to see it—cement it.

Walking in and seeing her with him. On top of him no less, skin bared to her eyes that weren’t meant to see. In more ways than one.

There wasn’t a pale face in the room after that.

“Oh my god—“ Enid had squeaked, Ajax springing up in his own shock.

Wednesday had simply turned and left the room, shutting the door with her hands that rung with nerves. Coiled deep into her palms, then echoed deep in her belly. Burned the back of her eyelids and imprinted on her brain.

She wandered back to the hive after.

“Hey, did you find your extra—…Wednesday?” Eugene’s grin had turned into grim confusion. Leaned on his hands against the folded table he’d set up with empty jars. “You’re shaking.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been trembling. Shivering like a fire dimmed out by harsh winter breeze.

“Allergies.” She had husked out, barely finding her voice. It felt like choking, trying to speak of anything else.

She busied herself with her task, not able to even curse at Thing attempting a comforting tap of her hand. If only he knew how inadvertently he’d played part. Maybe he did, somehow.

Enid apologizes so profusely when she finally does step back into their dorm. After Wednesday had done her best to keep active, going to fence dodging jabs (literal and verbal) from Bianca.

Another person somehow always idly by the scene of the crime. She wishes they could battle without foil again. Feels like she deserves a bit of pain and punishment—she had no right to bare the feeling she did. That green monster in place of the beast she actually craved.

Its…stupid, for sake of using a word as childish as she felt.

Thats why she took it in stride. Tries not to over analyze why Enid looks like the guilty one. Its not like she’s the one pushing the boundaries.

~

At least she hadn’t been back then. Not actively.

Ajax didn’t look at her for a good week straight afterwards. It makes her nauseous that she even noticed. Even more so that now she thinks she can return that favor—with interest.

She feels that guilt creeping back up her stomach to chest. As she now in present day, deals with the repercussion. Lays in bed alone for a long time with her hands crossed over her chest.

Likely for the best. Gives her time to get her wits about her. She’s already completed nearly all her coursework; sans the cap some of her professors placed to keep her at the same pace as her ‘peers.’

Begrudgingly, she really only addressed socializing with the contraption on her nightstand. It was actually incredibly easier to communicate her distance and make up stories through text. With Enid especially…much less complicated without her in the room.

Today its been particularly grating. Vibrating and buzzing away that morning. She doesn’t have to look to know they’re likely all from one person. She doesn’t text but a handful of people.

Thing, the traitor he is…he had gestured up some exaggeration to Bianca.

After dragging her body out of bed and making herself presentable for class, she felt her ears prick. Like foreshadowing the many hall interrogations she ends up going through that day, that had gotten the siren nowhere.

Inconveniently, she upped the ante. She makes a rare appearance in their dorm room.

She doesn’t speak at first, outside of a quipped,

“Long time no see, huh?”

Wednesday doesn’t look up from where she’s sitting at her desk.

“An overstatement.”

Wednesday had been spending a lot of time training, actually. Aside from time in the library. Excuses on top of excuses to be in the room less. Enid’s status and many clubs left her equally busy, though she had this lingering question that Wednesday’s been dodging. It goes unspoken, every time she comes home late as she can.

Wednesday’s not going to bridge it if Enid won’t, though. She can’t.

“I beat you in no less than 10 seconds today,” Bianca cocks her head from where she sits at her bedside. Wednesday is otherwise blank, staring at the matching white paper in her typewriter. She’s urging her fingers to type something—anything.

Its like the worst kind of pain, to attempt needlessly to create with no muse. And to take her joints with it, her hands aching to touch another.

“While I know I’m damn good at fencing…you were being weirdly sloppy, Addams. So, what gives?” Bianca scoots a bit closer to her, bright blue eyes boring into her.

She knows the girl won’t actually force anything out of her. Despite what Xavier may believe, she found the siren song to heighten ones previously laid desires. And she certainly urged to burst at her seams, but she’s held on far too long to unravel now.

Even with Enid insistent on their new relationship of designated whatever when she’s drunk. She physically can no longer take it.

“Whens the next party?” It leaves her lips like a reflex, the second the memory of the bonfire came creeping.

“You’re asking me?” Bianca looks amused, rightfully so. Wednesday replies with a patented stare and Bianca hums, “All those times I damn near begged you to come…you must’ve just wanted to see me on my knees, huh?”

And of course, reason for her inquiry comes walking in. Her uniform half undone, tie being pulled as she stops in her tracks. Bianca’s words trail off sheepishly, the girl looking caught for some reason Wednesday’s ignorant on.

She doesn’t know why she seems to think Enid has it out for her. Not when those blue eyes blaze a path in her direction.

This is technically the first time they’ve really communicated in day light in…a while. A few weeks at least.

“Wednesday…I thought you were feeling sick?” Enid asks with accusation in her tone. Wednesday’s briefly taken aback by the way she genuinely seems upset.

Along with the guilt of her lie that she’d forgotten she made in her haste to get Enid to leave. Sending but a text to not try and wake her as she had ‘fell ill’ during the night. She definitely felt sick that morning, choking down all thats unsaid.

The ghost of the taste that had been committed to memory. A common law marriage, due to her stubborn refusal to leave.

“Affirmative, I woke up feeling light headed,” She replies flawlessly neutral. Then she eyes Bianca, who still has that odd look on her face. “Barclay was simply dropping off some notes.”

And the lies are so easy. They’re common place.

Blue eyes narrow in suspicion and Wednesday wishes the wolf didn’t have such a snout for gossip.

“I could’ve done that for you.” Enid interjects, rather insisting. Another thing that serves to throw off her disposition, it nearly has her sputtering.

“We all know my test scores are far superior Sinclair,” Bianca butts in next. Her brow raised the way it does before a bout. She can practically see the foil in her hand, pointed at her opponent in a show of nerve. “Can you blame her for wanting mine instead?”

The way she says it…Wednesday looks incredulously at her. She’s laying it on a tad thicker than necessary and Enid looked so red in the face, she wonders if her faux fever somehow spread.

Her eyes glowed a blue that rivaled the siren’s. Yet, said siren made no move to fold whatever play this was. In fact she has nerve to stand and make a show of her exit. Wednesday does good to keep still and steel her face, ignorant on Bianca’s angle.

“And I do hope my notes found you well…” Bianca trails, hand grazing the back of Wednesday’s chair. It earns her a sharp glare, because it’s entirely too close to her space and unnecessary at that.

What in Lucifer’s name?

“I can help fill in the blanks just fine, I think.” Comes Enid’s stilted reply. Even more curious as her arms cross and she looks to Bianca with clear distaste.

Wednesday also looks to the siren through her peripheral, a bulb going off. Was she trying to prove a point?

That perhaps Enid does hold malice towards her, still…but for what reason?

And now is certainly a rather inconvenient time to test said theory.

“I fail to see why either of you believe I’m inept at deciphering the material on my own.” Wednesday interrupts whatever demonstration Bianca had commenced. Yet, the siren looks not at all bothered by her little game being broken up.

Enid looks apologetic, albeit out of sorts, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. Curiously, Wednesday thinks she sees those nails have elongated.

Then she’s checking her phone and making a noise of regret.

“Sorry, I only came back up to grab spare clothes so my uniform stays clean.” Enid has to clear her throat and looks to be mulling something over internally.

Wednesday nods and waits for Enid’s back to turn before she sends a patented glare to Bianca’s direction. She internally scolds the stubborn girl for goading the wolf. All to prove a irrelevant point.

Enid makes quick, albeit awkwardly silent work in grabbing her materials. All the while she’s regretfully reminded of the siren’s ability to quite literally speak with her eyes alone. Reverberating her words in Wednesday’s head like intrusive thoughts.

See what I mean, Addams?

Oh, don’t make that face…she doesn’t hate you.

The siren often used her powers to test her patience. She defiantly holds her eyes, even though looking away would break Bianca’s spell.

Wednesday doesn’t let up on her glare, nor does she think she can. Its her resting face, it feels the most natural to her.

Bianca only smiles, eyebrows raising up then down suggesting…well, whatever it is was beginning to give her a headache trying to decipher.

“I’ll be heading back now…they’re kinda wondering where I am.” Enid announces, bringing attention to where she’s standing near the door now. Still looking at Bianca in that way, that Wednesday’s not used to seeing. Even during the Poe cup.

The siren stands up with a start and a grin, sauntering to her roommate.

“I think I’ll head out with you,” She explains, minutely stretching her arm. She turns back to give Wednesday a final wink, making her brow twitch its growing irritation. “Give Addams time to rest and whatnot.”

Bianca does good to continue with her opulence, leaving her room first and with another exchange of eerily blue eyes with Enid.

Suffice to say it leaves this pesky air of tension that will ensure Wednesday does anything but rest. She thinks of adding itching powder to Bianca’s fencing uniform, slipping seafood in her lunch or ‘misplacing’ her precious sunscreen.

“You and Bianca, huh?” Enid asks suddenly, still lingering in spite of saying she had to leave. Wednesday sits up a bit straighter in her chair, hands in her lap and clutching the bottom of her hoodie.

“I thought you mentioned your friends were awaiting you?” Wednesday questions back, honestly having accumulated a headache at the mental strain of dealing with this. She just wants to be alone to wallow and tame her pining heart enough to sleep tonight.

Enid looks as if she said something offensive, rather than parroting her own words.

“I’m not allowed to ask how you’re doing?” She scoffs. “I barely see you anymore and if I knew you weren’t feeling well I could’ve—I don’t know, I…”

Wednesday looks blank in an absence on what to say. What could she voice?

Anything she has to say would lay ruin to what little peace she has. And Enid sighs, tired and looking like she wants to say more—that way she physically holds her lips together, willing them shut.

“Just…you have my number, you know?” She finally says with a frown. She looks into Wednesday’s eyes with emotion she can’t analyze, or else she may do something they both regret. “If you feel any sicker, or need meds or something…call me, ok? Please.”

She’s half a mind to call it begging. Enid sounds like a kicked puppy, as if Wednesday was holding onto a photo card to complete her collection. As if her absence genuinely filled her with disappointment.

Wednesday craves the torture chamber back at the manor. Thinks her limbs deserve to be stretched til her bones crack. Still, she wouldn’t find it comparable to witnessing Enid’s face.

“I will attempt to honor your request.” She replies, before turning back to her typewriter. She doesn’t pretend to type, but she does hold her breath.

And again—air leaves her lungs as Enid does.

She leaves the room about fifteen minutes after her breaths even back out. She doesn’t come back until Thing has confirmed Enid’s asleep.

/

She does good to see even less of her roommate, if she can help it.

She gets her fill by night, with nothing but the dimmed pink fairy lights above Enid’s bed illuminating her slumbering face. Mouth slightly agape as her fangs relax and soft growls escape. As annoying as it was to get used to, she finds comfort in it now.

The guise of sleeping with her wolf.

By day she’s barely in the room. She planned her classes in such a way that she could pretend to be disappointed that only one of them was shared with Enid. Its not obvert avoidance, though, she still allows her friend to sit beside her.

For a week that is.

She may have convinced Bianca to tell her girlfriend to ‘steal’ her seat recently, however. Make up some nonsense about missing the wolf even though nothing had changed in either of their schedules.

The vampire’s only request being the unspoken ignoring of the sad eyes she gives Wednesday all class. In tandem with Enid’s ironically.

After a few weeks of the seating change, the blood sucker gets bold.

She falls in step with Wednesday on the way to said class. She had been perched at the library entrance, waiting with a straw in her mouth from her breakfast. Wednesday can already guess her motive in even being there, but she’s nothing if not difficult.

“No outside food and drink in the library.” She mentions once Yoko meets her eyes.

“Well…its a good thing I’m not inside, huh?” Yoko grins, tipping her plasma pouch forward as if giving cheers.

Wordlessly they’re walking together, Wednesday making no attempt at speaking first. She feels the vampire would find a way to use it against her. She also isn’t sure how much gossiping she does with her girlfriend.

Bianca couldn’t hold water, ironically.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re avoiding Enid?” She asks and Wednesday notices their stride has slowed. They were also walking off path slightly, away from larger groups. As if sensing her discomfort, Yoko reassures, “Bianca wouldn’t tell me much, but I could maybe guess. Something happened during that bonfire…didn’t it?”

Wednesday had been practicing her poker face on the subject. Had honestly expected it to be brought up in a handful of other ways, but never expecting it of Yoko of all people. Still, she doesn’t flinch or let anything cross her eyes. Doesn’t let her lips move, or hands tremble.

“I’ve been busy.” Is her textbook response, because she’s not keen on being interrogated.

“You won’t be mad if I go back to my normal seat then? Great,” Yoko claps her hands and pretends to be excited. Wednesday glares, unamused at the attempt to bribe.

“You will do no such thing if you care about her wellbeing,” Wednesday hisses, keeping her voice low. And she hates the emotion that wants to bleed from where the vampire had attempted to split her open. She sighs, “It is…for her own good. For both of our benefit.”

Yoko doesn’t look like she believes her, but the goal was being left alone, not illusion.

Chapter Text

Its been a month of this. Culpable and burdened.

Then, the holidays swing around. It was harder than normal to be back at the manor. Never mind being witness to her parents’ love—affection she’s felt varying bitterness towards. It’s difficult in the worst way, to now long for that tenderness.

She struggles to walk up the steps, feeling the weight of her battered heart sinking her downward.

She barely eats. Not that she gets out of bed much to begin with. Skipping dinners and Lurch’s specialties. She’s too weak to haunt the halls. Her mother brings her tea with sad eyes and a barely there touch to her shoulder.

Her father holds in blubbering tears when she denies his request to spar that Christmas eve.

Pugsley offering to let her throw Pubert’s dirty diapers at him like projectiles. Goading her on purpose to trigger her wrath…

And she wants it all to stop.

Wants the holiday itself to feel normal. As normal as it ever is in the Addams’ manor.

Its her excuse for allowing Enid to call her and actually answer. The wolf had tried but two other times, to the only get her voicemail and half baked excuse.

Finally hearing her voice loosens the tense knots in her shoulder. Adds oil to her joints. Grants strength in her grip.

“I’m sorry—“

“I would like to apologize—“

They both gasp back at their dual responses. Saying the same thing in different way. Separate ways, parted by a median of the heart.

“Enid.” She speaks first, if not only to claim her spot. She owes her something if she’s going to unknowingly feed the parasite that cinched her chest taut. “I realize I’ve been...distant.”

She hears Enid hum on the other end, breath staggering. Even over the phone, she couldn’t help but reflect the moon.

“Thats…definitely an understatement.” She speaks mostly air, rather than volume. Then a beat, “I hope you’ve been doing ok…taking care of yourself and stuff…”

Enid murmurs at the end, making her clench the phone harder. She has to dig nails into her thighs to stave off the wave of nausea.

Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty—

“I was attending to familial matters with an …inheritance I was not prepared for.” But she had been warned. For years she had been told of the Addams plague of the heart.

The sticky pins that surround her organ caught and knotted in fur.

“Someone passed away? I’m so sorry,
Weds, I-I had no idea,” Enid frets, taking her vague description a tad too on the nose.

Though, in a way she supposed its not that far off. The longer this goes on, she’ll sooner be haunting Enid and watching in spirit. More literally than intended.

“Not quite, but…its complicated.” Wednesday explains nothing with even more filler. Morbid fluff to distract from the woeful truth. “Nonetheless, its been reason for my absence.”

Very eloquently, Enid snorts or something close to it on her end.

“Sorry, just…” Enid chuckles, but it doesn’t sound humorous. She can practically visualize the blonde, after so many years in her pull. Likely with her hand rubbing her arm, leg bouncing to quell her nerves. “You’re my best friend, you know? I’m always gonna worry about you, Weds.”

Then…why must you make it so difficult? Why must you tempt this blood laden monster?

Why did you kiss me?

“A-And its no rush…whenever you wanna—y-you know?” Enid stammers. Wednesday can hear her nerves, practically see Enid pacing around her room as they speak. “…Talk about stuff more, I mean.”

She ends with an air of disappointment. Wednesday feels like a coward.

Eerily human in these budding ways, activated latent urge that hangs on Enid’s every move.

So, what of them now?

More lies? Hand spun webs that she could no longer unwind; sticky silk overlapping with reality in a way that muddles up everything. Memories jumbled in, in a desperate attempt to stitch it all together.

She thinks the part that vexes her most is the way in which she doesn’t want to forget.

In her greed and solitude, she can still feel the pressure of Enid’s lips on hers. When her joints and heart ache with the curse; its the only remedy, acting as a pseudo balm on her sore insides.

Until she makes herself sick—fills herself up with lament, because at their core those moments had been stolen.

“You may call me again…if you must.”

Wednesday meekly offers an olive branch. Its rotted and barren of fruit, but its trunk heavy with foundation.

Rooted into the ground and already made one, without ever being aware.

Enid doesn’t squeal and cheer like a sixteen year old anymore, but she chuckles a bit brighter than she sounded originally. And it creates a new found peace.

“Oh! Before I forget,” Enid had perked up at end of the call. At Wednesday’s confused hum, she laughs again—it feels like home, their dorm where they’re just kids again. Enid’s grinning, “Merry Christmas, Wednesday.”

She feels a bit of feeling return to her body. Its a tad easier to be on her feet. Like that had been the final gift under the tree that morning. Suffice to say, a wonder considering her longtime stint on the naughty list. Though her more adult transgressions bring more real world consequences.

She even manages a walk around the manor, with her umbrella in tow and Thing’s weight on her shoulder.

Gluttony. Greed. Selfish. Self serving. Undeserving.

Echoing behind her eyes, because she’s sure there’s a bit more light in them. Her mother mentions the ‘pep in her step.’ Father’s over joyed at the return of her will to parry. She even sat through a zombie movie marathon with her brothers.

The more she lets Enid hold her conversation every day. Allows texts to flood her line. She feels…better.

It makes her want to step into oncoming traffic. How much her calls alone would do—

“Yeah, yeah…got those LOONA tickets I wanted.”

“—and breakfast was so freaking big! Damien ate like forty pancakes—“

Then of course casualties could only remain as such with intention. Like an impending storm, Wednesday feels it on the other line before Enid even asks.

“I know its not your scene, but…I miss you already—”

“It’ll be fun—everyone will be there—“

“C’mon, Weds…for me?”

“I wanna see you.”

Thats why she ends up at another garish Nevermore party, celebrating the New Year and returning to campus early. Enid had asked, likely not expecting her to agree. She had been beating around the bush for so long.

She’s likely still battling whiplash, considering Wednesday answered after spending a month ignoring her. Amped up the metaphorical space that existed between them. Another failed attempt at goading the werewolf to break her and cease her suffering.

Wednesday just wanted control over her body again.

The curse was running through her veins cruelly. Weakening her bones and making putty of her marrow. It genuinely hurt in ways she can’t ignore, being physically away from Enid.

It was insidious, how good she feels, how the sore ceases after interacting.

She blames that night that she refused to acknowledge. She had to practice actively filtering it out of her psyche. If she continues, she can eventually convince herself it was a dream.

A maladaptive reverie, born of hormones and teenage naivety.

But then she just can’t write off the memory of those lips against her own and she tucks it back down to repress.

She knows its dangerous and incredibly stupid to put herself in this position. To be around alcohol and the inebriated wolf. Drunk Enid had a habit of feeding the curse and testing her sanity.

Its a sharp spear she’s impaled on sometimes, pleasing Enid and keeping up her facade. A serrated blade that made sloppy work of her flesh and guts. To the point of emulating Prometheus, only she imagines the alcohol doesn’t do duty to the wolf’s liver either.

She felt spread open when she finally sees Enid again. Like new blood flowing from these long opened wounds.

So, she begrudgingly agrees to stick with Bianca for a lot of the night. Texting something like a last resort SOS to her cellphone and getting a mountain of text back. Wednesday didn’t care to answer any of it other than confirming she was going to be there.

The siren was in proximity to the wolf still, due to her girlfriend’s status as one of Enid’s ‘besties.’ It made it less suspicious, like she can actually handle it. As if their last interactions were just Wednesday being ‘sick’ or moody.

She tries to slither her way through the crowd she walks into. Merging into traffic of hormones, more of those plastic red cups and dim lights.

Of course Enid had found her first. Nose twitching and tell tale sign of whats to come in her spare hand. A metal can in her hand, skinny and swishing.

“Wednesday!” She had caught up with her, hand on her shoulder. Spinning her body to meet her glimmering eyes.

She’s not sure what she was expecting at the sight of her. Everything? Wednesday felt her chest lock up, then down low in her belly; that desire newly beckoned, because Enid looks good.

She’s missed her.

“Hey…” Enid trails, as they stand in the middle of someone’s living room. Plans of avoidance thwarted and lay keeling on the wood floors beneath them.

Wednesday doesn’t say anything, at least not with her lips. Aside from licking them, having dried the second Enid sauntered over to her. She swallows after, throat even more parched.

Stumbling and boisterous, almost naively blending into the background and her own forethought; Ajax comes next, smiling and red eyed with his vape in the hand that doesn’t clamp down on Enid’s back.

“Enid, I—oop!” He stops himself in place, curiously when he notices her. In fact they both look awkward.

Enid’s eyes going between the two as her mouth opens to babble uselessly. Ajax carefully nodding at Wednesday directly, the way he always does. As if he doesn’t hear the rumors about how she feels about him.

Possibly even about Enid.

As if she makes it hard to draw conclusions. It hurts to look at him and it makes her feel so weak, she teeters between lament and anger. Either or, no less consuming and unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

Theres entirely too many invasions to her nasal cavity and ear canal. Blaring music from speakers larger than her body, amongst the cheers that break out periodically from the kitchen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just seeing if you had my lighter.” Ajax sheepishly requested, Enid rolling her eyes in a way that looked undeniably fond.

She has to blur out their words, if she wants to keep this as is. Friends finding each other at a party. One of said friends being accompanied by their intended.

Wednesday wished to be anything but an Addams in that moment. And she carries great pride in her namesake. In that moment, however it felt like a curse too—it tastes too sour to say out loud.

She always wanted this raven’s path after all.

Sharp smell of alcohol and fruity juice she’s watched be mixed into lackluster cocktails. She inhales deeply as the pair before her continue to banter. Wednesday finds herself craving that inebriation for the first time in a while, as she feels her body waning.

Threes a crowd, huh Addams?

Wednesday nearly thinks she imagined it in her over stimulated brain. Its far too patronizing to be mistaken as nothing. She’s sure she looks odd, as the couple in front of her nearly look concerned.

Come to the kitchen, you look a little pale…I’ve got just the pick me up!

She clears her throat, looking off to the kitchen door. Even as Bianca’s smug laughter rings in her ears like an echo.

“Bianca requested my assistance.” She states plainly, voice raised amongst the music and crowd.

A boy dressed in bed sheets comes running between them, shouting and hands raised. Ajax laughs awkwardly, while Enid looks unamused.

“Since when is she asking you of all people for help throwing a party?” It’s snarked, perhaps more than she meant. Even Ajax had looked at her funny. Ruefully her face softened at the way her statement cut. “Just…its weird.”

She ends with a shrug, body language defensive and a long swig of drink from her can. Wednesday is unsure of how to interpret it. With Ajax looking as if he’d rather be somewhere else—

She thinks thats another thing they share affinity for. Running away. Go figure.

“I’m sure I’ll see you before the year’s end.” Wednesday offers half heartedly. Practically dragging her feet; its demented, the teetering scale of touch and go.

Wanting—craving Enid so close, her every will attuned to the wolf’s call. Yet unable to answer, hands bound in twine and mouth stuffed with her own feathers.

She’s off at tempo to the fast paced music throbbing through the house. She doesn’t say goodbye, or want to address her retreat as what it is for sake of her remaining pride.

/

Bianca is sitting on the kitchen counter, somehow managing to not look as uncouth as the act implied. The vampire stood between her legs, holding a blue tinted drink.

The second of which noticed her first, but Wednesday’s yet to decide if that’s favorable.

”Holy shit, Wednesday’s in her party era!” The blood sucker announced with a point in her direction. She chuckles at the way Wednesday glares at the couple of boys who try to pat her on the back.

She stalks over to where the insolent couple relaxed, arms crossed as she looks them over. Bianca looks smug as ever, like she’s just beat their long time record in dueling.

”I know exactly what you need, dead girl.” Bianca winks at her, before she hops down from her perch. She’s giggling to herself all along, while Yoko snorts her amusement.

“I’m not letting you enter the new year without a shot Addams,” Bianca announces, a small red cup in her hands. Its sloshing sepia liquid and Wednesday squints her eyes at the poignant smell of cinnamon. The siren rolls her eyes, “Its fireball, not poison.”

“My immunity to poison leads me to believe alcohol will have no effect,” Wednesday shrugs. And honestly she’s never drank enough to try, either. Wine and champagne chutes at family balls were here and there, but she didn’t care for the taste.

Yoko looks to her incredulously, scoffing and joining her girlfriend in their attempt at peer pressure.

“This whole time I thought you were straight edge, or something. Enid made me feel like I was being an ass if I offered you a drink!” Yoko rants, laughing now at the mixed signals she had unknowingly gave off.

She was both amused and appreciative at Enid’s story to get people to leave her alone.

And she despises it all the same. Enid making excuses for her, defending her in spite of Wednesday doing everything but actively pushing her away. She swallows, deciding to snatch the shot from Bianca’s fingers.

She downs it as the two girls watch in awe, as she doesn’t feel much when it goes down. A dull burn that was nothing compared to acid like potions and concoctions her family’s given her over the years. Its a welcome sting, with the spice of cinnamon after taste.

“Ok, I see you Addams—no chaser?” Bianca chuckles as she licks excess from her lips. Wednesday only shrugs her shoulders, not entirely knowing what she would follow that with other than perhaps another.

Yoko looks to hold more caution as she fills herself a few more. Its…kind she supposes.

Well meaning, she imagines, but all the while quite bothersome. She is not naive enough to go past her limit. She really only drinks enough for the spice to create a pseudo jacket.

Then she can wander outside, though she’s displeased to catch some smokers with the same idea. A group of them is huddled up, including the gorgon she notes at sight of his filled beanie.

He has nerve to meet her eyes and nod his acknowledgment once more. Makes a point to move his body and turn his neck. Wednesday’s eyes don’t blink, but she turns on her heel and trudges into the trees.

She despised him.

It makes her feel unpleasant, the bitter thing in her chest when she thinks of him. Not in the preferred way.

She doesn’t like a lot of people. That was her choice—she viewed the masses the same. It made her feel violated and small, having that anger garnered without asking.

Like a child. Only with plans to skin creatures in her backyard.

Snakes were quite easy to kill. She’d made her first, inspired by the cartoon Mongoose she’d been shown as a tot. They looked quite handsome when crafted into leather. A dashing pair of oxfords.

She’s surprised to not see Enid, but the girl didn’t like the cold. She had probably unknowingly traded Wednesday’s place as Yoko and Bianca’s third wheel.

She slinks past the stoners with ease, under the clouds of smoke and night time lighting.

Theres a crunch of snow on the ground. She can hear it heightened in her vague inebriation. Its quite nice not to feel much of anything, honestly. She can walk and steady herself, but her limbs feel detached all the while. Her shoulders loosen, lifted of burden and the cold burn of her eyes diluted in her haze.

She briefly questions if the following foot steps are a result as well, but she’s not that drunk. She made sure of it.

“Wait up! Weds,” A voice accompanied the steps that quicken in haste. She furrows her brows, wondering how. But then a hand touches her shoulder, “Jesus, how are you walking so fast in all this snow? Your legs are so tiny.”

Enid scolds her between huffs, other hand on her side as she catches her breath. Wednesday’s lips tighten, eyes focusing on the blonde and how she’s always managing to find her like this.

“Why did you follow me?” Why do you keep following me.

“The countdown is soon and I figured you would rather be alone than with a group of people shouting it.” Enid explains her logic and its certainly that.

Their relationship and status as roommates made them both privy to each other’s different quirks. It didn’t leave much room for secret between them…at least thats what she needs Enid to believe.

“That would be a rightfully drawn conclusion, I suppose,” Wednesday replies, somewhat relieved she didn’t have to make something up.

Enid’s eyes widen just a bit, face looking unsettled. Her nostrils flare and she inhales deeply, which isn’t odd necessarily considering she’s with a wolf at edge of the woods. However, she looks with blazing eyes at Wednesday, like she’s done something wrong.

Its terribly unnerving.

“You’ve been drinking?” She asks, accusation in her voice. It makes Wednesday dizzy for a moment, not knowing where its coming from.

Or where she gets off, appearing out of nowhere and…

“Another astute observation,” Wednesday quips rather than answering directly. Enid just looks displeased, but the shorter girl scoffs. “Have you not also been partaking in these ‘festivities?’”

And all the others where she would find Wednesday, drunk and saying everything the curse needed to feed.

“Thats different, you don’t even like this stuff…” Enid counters with a frown. “I told Bianca it wasn’t your thing.”

And theres that way she speaks about the siren, like Wednesday’s not in the room to decide for herself. As if she hadn’t done her damnedest thus far to force Enid to leave her be and enjoy her life. All under the calculated guise of it being choice of her own.

Wednesday was growing exhausted.

“I’m well aware of your misguided attempt at ‘protecting’ me, but I did not request or need that from you.” Wednesday can’t bring herself to sound cold, or even be mean. She just doesn’t have any emotion in it. Her neutrality as a veil.

“Right, cause you’ve been avoiding me,” Enid drips with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t have been able to ask me…would you? So, forgive me for assuming!”

Wednesday blinks, her only show of anything amiss. Guilt burns her insides—she welcomes the cold of winter. Enid looks so terribly beautiful when she’s angry. But her words dig in like an even hotter brand.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Wednesday weakly defends. “My novel is in its final stages before submission, along with my university applications. Not to mention my family—“

“Bullshit, Wednesday!” Enid growls, the wolf that had been freed having been prodded. It closes her mouth, though not in fear. No, she beckons to serve this beast.

Too much so.

“I think you should return to Ajax,” Wednesday murmurs eventually, arms holding herself steady. She can’t even look at Enid anymore. “He’s likely wondering where you are so close to midnight.”

A few steps away from the girl, barely lifting her legs to drag through the snow.

“And I recall you being one to find sentiment in the tradition of a New Year’s kiss…correct?” Wednesday tags on, like goading the wolf with raw venison.

Enticing her to heel, stay and then go home. Because Enid is not her’s.

“We’re technically on a break, actually.” Enid says very matter of factly. She’s smiling, but it was in contrast to the tremble in her lips. Wednesday turns full body to face her, cold whipping her face along with that statement. “We’re cool I guess, but we’re not…together. Not right now.”

What does she say? Is it even true? Enid had a tendency to speak her vices after a few drinks.

“My condolences.” Wednesday is sorry, she genuinely is. This parasite, it only wants Enid to be happy. At expense of herself, logic, or all reason.

Enid scoffs at her and Wednesday takes a step backward into the piled snow.

“Oh, so now you care, huh?” The werewolf snarks, then winces in regret. “Sorry—actually, I’m not sorry. I still don’t understand how I finally meet up to everyone’s expectations and still no one wants me.”

It feels like a punch to the gut. A shock from uncle Fester coursing through her nerves. Because Enid sounds so hurt.

And how wrong she is.

Wednesday wants her more than anything. You’d be searching far and wide for a corpse more buried than the place Enid holds in her chest cavity.

“Our peers have been keen on celebrating your every breath since Crackstone.” Wednesday tries to be reasonable instead. She steps a bit closer, swallowing down her selfish whims. “Your status in the Sinclair pack—“

“Is also bullshit—traditional, fake, bullshit!” Enid’s fangs prolong next and Wednesday’s expression softens for her heart’s desire. As much as it can under its own stress. Enid growls, “Notice how no one cared until I shifted? Became a blood moon wolf and thats all I needed for my family to love me…to not be a joke.”

Enid opens and closes her fist, eyeing the mark on her hand like its own curse.

“Had you not cut me off,” Wednesday begins, not irritated with the sullen wolf, but her circumstance. “Your status was well over due. You demonstrated efficiency amongst the other wolves before I’d even seen your fangs.”

Enid laughs, humorless and bitter. Wednesday’s not too proud to say she flinches, albeit as minutely as she can.

“And yet…you can barely stand to look at me now.” Enid looks to her with sad eyes and sadder smile. “I can’t win, huh?”

Wednesday’s speechless for something other than her own accord. She longs to un cur, to spill her heart’s mantra. But its so cold, freezing her fingertips numb. Her lips frozen shut and tip of her nose red.

Enid’s never been good at excuses, however. Her red cheeks, frosty eyes and fingers were very clearly not of the weather’s effect. There’s no disguise, even as she’s noticed the soft flurry of dusting snowflakes that have started back up.

She lets it dot the top of her head, swallowing: the after taste of fireball, regret (years and years of regret), unspoken love, unrelenting heart.

But as always, she just can’t stand to see Enid cry.

“I have never seen you more clearly, than the day you risked your life for mine.” She offers after entirely too long resisting the aches the whimpering wolf gives.

The tear that tracked downward as seconds passed by that she didn’t deny.

“Then, why can’t you look at me now?” Enid presses, too loud in the quiet forest and too adjacent to the truth. Wednesday’s stock still, even as those pink boots trudge towards her. “Never in our room anymore, always hiding in the library—“

“Enid—“ She tries to interject. Tries to weakly convince them both that she’s just drunk. They’re both not of clear mind to speak of this.

But Enid presses. Treats her like deer in line of her wolf’s path, striking the air from Wednesday’s lungs.

“Pretend you don’t see me in the halls, switching seats with Yoko and thinking I wouldn’t notice, lying about your family…d-did you think I was dumb?” And Wednesday thinks she deserves to feel tautness in her own chest, as those words bite harsher than the cold.

Each question punctuated with another step. Wednesday keeps her eyes down, as if she could try and hide the only portal to her soul. She could gnaw her lips shut, bite her tongue til it bleeds; short of closing them, she can’t cloak her eyes.

The most expressive part of her…she points them pitifully below to look at blankets of snow, broken twigs and browned leaves. And Enid’s so close, she can feel those hot, huffing breaths against her forehead.

Karma chameleon’d as this heaved anger—she should’ve stayed away to begin with. Taken the curse head on, but in the bitter end she is a coward.

“I’d never think you were dumb…never you.” She mutters uselessly, to which Enid coughs out a laugh. As if shocked Wednesday’s decided to say anything at all.

“Then, why won’t you look at me, Wednesday?” Its so broken, so tragic. Enid’s pleas as her hands go to her jacket, gripping helplessly at the lapels and tugging. “Did I…did I do something? Would you even tell me if I did?”

Honestly she’d tell Enid anything she wanted to hear. There’s a million ways she’d practiced asking to rot into the ground together. Held in confessions of the heart, like sticky berries in a color Enid would find pretty; coating her in the worst way. Its why her tongue is likely scarred at this point, from years of biting down the need.

And it’s a command now—Wednesday didn’t follow them well, or at all on an average day. Still, as long established and as clear white as the snow…she cannot deny Enid.

She finally looks to Enid’s eyes and finds everything she’s ever wanted.

Though, she already knew that…that’s why its so torturous. Like Narcissus to his own reflection, she feels so selfish drinking her all in.

She begins to think of more lies, to protect herself—she isn’t so sure if its shielding Enid as well, anymore. Its quite a mess now, like when Uncle Fester gets too eager during a hunt. Except she can’t shower the blood and dirt from under her nails.

Its under her skin.

Its like another arrow to the chest, but one that strikes true.

Or maybe thats just the feeling of dying. She thinks she may be, but its different this go around. She’s warm for once in her life. Pulse thrumming steady and hard, rather than her typical lulled decibels. Her finger tips enveloped in soft skin as she holds Enid’s cheeks in her palms.

She couldn’t help it. She should’ve ran.

Should’ve mentioned her aversion to touch, as if that hadn’t long been breached.

But Enid leaves no room, especially as their lips crash in a parry of passion. The wolf strikes first, her tongue prodding sharp between her lips. Wednesday gives the point with a whimper.

Far more riveting than practice with Bianca, even with her growing perspire. Winning a battle and haughty, smug scores over her opponent were nothing.

Her nerves on end, body numbed with the effects of the curse having finally come to a head; this was everything.

An eclipse of Sun and Moon connecting—rather lips.

And theres this illusion (it has to be) of it being mutual. They’re oddly in sync in lieu of not a word said. Only gasps at how much it all is and whines from Enid’s throat at Wednesday’s harsh suck of her bottom lip.

She feels of no control.

She pushes Enid back by her collar, heaving breaths turning to steamy mist between them. The only thing keeping their lips apart. Wednesday licks hers, noticing how the pair inches away are smudged nearly bare. She hangs her head to stare at the snowy ground.

She still…can’t. She can’t face it.

It’s dangerous to look up. To see Enid’s disappointed face and know what a mistake this is. She prays to be let down harshly, be put out of her misery.

But cold trembling hands grab her wrists and Wednesday stiffens, but doesn’t jerk away. She lets Enid guide her hands up, breathing out harshly at the feeling of warmed lips on her palm. She looks up frantically, as if her senses have failed her.

Enid’s looking back at her desperately, the blues of her eyes engulfed in heady darkness. Wednesday’s never seen her like this—she feels unworthy. The last time she’d been dodging eye contact for sake of her own self preservation.

With each carnal press of lips, then to each of her fingers. Puffs of breath on her tips, sending tingles that reverberated to her spine and every nerve. Her hand is brought to cup Enid’s overheated cheeks again.

Red from cold, or their actions…she can’t be unbiased enough to trust.

“Enid.” Its all she can utter when her tongue traces tip of Wednesday’s thumb. The blonde kisses the tip chastely, nearly catching her teeth. “You’re—“

Enid sucks her finger whole and Wednesday’s mouth stays parted. Her silence only kept in by the air sucked out.

She’s not so out of touch, to be naive to basic nursery rhymes. She’s quite fond of the plague ones. Cautious of the practical ones—fool me once, shame on you. And there would be price to pay (her interpretation.)

Fool me twice…well, Wednesday is naught if not patented with every word for cunning. Most would be daft to try. She’s done this to herself this time. To add another cliche she’s flown too close to the sun.

So bright its void of anything in those pupils—Wednesday thinks its mirroring her. She’s inebriated herself, even though she knows Enid’s touch sobered her about fifteen minutes earlier.

And her ministrations against her fingers, followed by moans from Enid like it tastes that good.

Like these hands are capable of such.

“Enid…” She breathes it again. “Enid.”

A bit firmer, removing her pinky from those lips and uselessly taking her hands away. She grips her fists taut, nails digging in. Pain like a pinch to prove she’s not dreaming. She has to be dreaming.

“You don’t want me?” Enid asks as if she already knows the answer. Sounds spiteful again and still far too much in her space.

Wednesday shakes her head, eyes clouded with her unbridled lust. This is why she steered clear; it became needful, the more she indulged.

“Too fast.”

Enid just nods once, then blinks her shock. At Wednesday’s eye contact—finally addressing the wolf fully; she nods with more vigor.

Wednesday sighs at her presence backing away.

Its more fully snowing now. She’s able to hear how heavy the wind whips as the weather calls. She shakes, shivering cold now that the elements—real life, begins to quake her to her bones. Alcohol had made her think she would be fine wandering in a big sweater.

Granted, she only planned on being out here long enough to wait out the count down. Until she needed another shot to put her miserable year to rest.

“Can I hug you?” Enid asks suddenly and Wednesday’s sure she looks silly being so off put. Considering the last 5 minutes or so, definitely. Enid stands awkward with twitching fingers and frowning lips, “You’re shivering…we’ve been gone for a while.”

Ah, she supposed she was. Wednesday seems to just realize the way her body was trembling, the second she stepped away. The curse was bellowing full force—it craved so much more.

Like frost bite over taking her the longer she’s apart.

“Then we should likely return.” Wednesday offers instead, hugging her arms around herself stubbornly. She’s made it this far without someone to hold her.

Even as Enid narrows her eyes, shrugging off her light blue puffy jacket. Its sky blue with a furry hood, exposing the blonde’s plush turtle neck underneath.

“At least take my jacket.” She doesn’t wait for Wednesday’s consent, draping the object around her back.

It engulfs her in flames almost immediately; she somehow feels as if she could sweat with flurries smacking her head.

Its a quiet trek back through the snow. The only noise being the crescendo of chatter and cheers as they approach the yard. Theres a few couples embracing outside now, along withe remaining smokers.

She doesn’t know why, she doesn’t even mean to—Ajax finds her eye again.

He smiles at her.

Wednesday’s jaw clenched hard, Enid’s jacket like a heavy weight on her shoulder. Her scent and detergent invading her nostrils like pollen. The girl herself was holding her cold hand, leading her back into the house. So protective, guiding her along with the clothes on her back like some kind of…

She feels sick. Her stomach twists so violently—

She has to break from Enid’s hold before they’ve made it full inside. She abandoned the jacket in bewildered hands, in her haste. She has to be…not here.

She finds the bathroom prompt. She doesn’t even make it to the toilet.

She spends a good minute looking in the mirror. Her body temperature closing back in on equilibrium as the vent below the sink puffs heat into her again. She’s flushed regardless.

Its not fair.

Her cheeks are darling red and its not fair.

She retches and dry heaves in the sink. Heartbeat ringing in her ear like feedback.

Chapter Text

They don’t talk about it in the morning. Thats not new for them though.

Wednesday thinks she prefers it. The pain of whats undefined felt better than the rush of taking what doesn’t belong to her. Rather, she feels more deserving.

She thinks her penchant for torture and pain makes her default on wallowing in these emotions that hurt. A natural in the act of brooding.

Punishment in form of isolation.

Dresses quietly as she can, confident in her ability to not pique the wolf’s heightened senses. Lets the night before be her motivation to move dexterous and quick. But it buzzes behind her eyelids in a dull ache.

She’d been drinking. 

She had felt emaciated in that bathroom.

~

Teetering and head buzzing with forced sobriety. She didn’t want to keep drinking—for once, her body was weary of torture. Grown boney and meek, she realized how starved she was.

Those infractions: the rooming together, the friendship, the lying…she was snacking. Pecking like ravenous bird she is at her core, stealing seeds from sunflowers—a scavenger.

What is she without the unknowing sacrifice of others? The glass does nothing but reflect her family’s values and her innate glee in the harm of others.

She understands why others find it so…unsettling, in that moment.

She doesn’t notice when the bathroom door opens. She’d likely been in there for far longer than excusable. No flush of a toilet, or even sink running water. No, she was staring at herself—whoever that was in the mirror. It had to be her, for no one was behind her yet.

She looks so…alive.

She had coughed and wretched pitifully into the sink, but she couldn’t get it out of her. She felt so eerily full inside.

Then, muddling up her orientation, her reflecting discretions—comes her only vice.

Enid stands in the mirror. Lets the bathroom door swing back closed as she carries her jacket in her arms.

Enid pacing slowly behind her, standing a few feet back. Simply staring back at her through glass, before she steps.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Each with a brief pause, as if Wednesday still exists in real life as that fragile bird. She supposed she must look like one, looking as lost as she does in that moment.

Enid approached like she was afraid Wednesday would take flight.

Up until she’s against her back. The wolf closing in on her willing prey. Arms that wrap around her, engulfing her once again in the garden of Enid. Where she feels so terribly safe, she shivers full body from the contact.

Plush jacket wrapped back around her. She must still be shaking.

“Let me take you back home.” Is murmured low in her ear. Lips leaving no distance, barely an inch between breath and skin. Words are the only thing in the space, for once.

Wednesday’s been captured, but long before she’d been trapped.

She can only nod curtly, as if she’s unable to move without Enid’s command. She’s sober, she knows she is by now. She can barely taste the alcohol anymore. Yet, still she moves in a haze, cheeks scarlet and eyes glazed with her own indulgence.

With Enid leading her by the hand, like they’re some sort of item.

Like Enid’s responsible for her. And its to go unquestioned. Even from the siren and her vampire companion.

Its like viewing them under water (ironically). Listening to what’s probably a quip from Bianca. Some whispered words from Yoko that have Enid’s cheeks tinting anew. Wednesday feels out of body—earnestly out of her mind.

“Just make sure she’s still in one piece for practice,” Bianca had commented evilly.

She smirked at the way Wednesday let herself be held—the seer spared her no word, or reaction aside from an eyeroll. No use hiding the pink in her skin. She’s already leaning into colors just as incriminating.

Subtle as a werewolf can, the hold on her grows a tad more snug. More notes from the garden wafting around her in a cloak. Bianca’s nostrils flair in amusement as her eyes go between them.

Let it happen, Addams. Be happy…as much as you can be.

She can’t attempt to shrug the hold off, with such a strong grip on her smaller frame. Can’t hide her face away, or falsify an excuse other than glaring.

Even that felt half hearted. It felt like being drunk in its own make of the word to be in the wolf’s embrace. She couldn’t find it in herself to be anything but next to Enid.

Bask in these stolen moments, where she could pretend they came here together.

They’re meeting the other two girls, between dancing and sharing drinks. Its so plausible, when she lets herself live in Enid’s rose tinted ends. Tips of pink hair tickling her face.

Her heart threatened to claim her, with every step back to Nevermore. Hand in hand with the palm that held the mark, like handing her the leash.

And what a choice that would be—to give an Addams not only their hearts desire, but in form of such a captivating creature.

Once they’re outside, Enid shifts. Her bones crack into place and the hulking beast howls. Eyes glowing like turquoise stones buried deep under the Earth beneath her paws.

Wednesday’s not sure she’s even breathing, until a snout is prodding her cheek. Then licking her hand.

In context, it sends tingles up her fingertips. The girl and the wolf wanting her hand. Stomaching her raven’s touch. She doesn’t see anything but her wolf.

No premonitions, or visions of great violence. No flash of how Enid will meet her inevitable end.

Just Enid.

She rides the wolf through the trees, bypassing the well beaten path. Returning to the freshly reopened dorms in record time. The castle stands tall, but Enid’s wolf is larger than life.

When they’re back in their dorm, she feels not unlike a doll. She’d never let any one else glimpse her this way; so fragile and body still trembling. Enid’s jacket still around her.

While Enid kicks her boots off, hangs up her hat and stretches her limbs. Until she regards Wednesday anew, arms going to hold her again like magnets reconnecting.

“You’re shaking like a twig,” Enid mocks, slipping the jacket from her shoulders.

And her eyes move to Enid so quickly, she nearly pops a vessel. Memories she’ll never forget come flooding.

Oozing from her pores as the jacket comes off. As if it was the only thing acting as a tourniquet to where she’d been cut. With the wolf’s arms around her, post transforming and once again taking care of her.

Not resting until Wednesday’s ok.

She remembers being sixteen again, having just died for the first time. A simpering Enid clutching her for dear life until her grip gave out.

“Stupid dog,” Wednesday murmurs instead. In the quiet of their embrace, its all that can be heard. Aside from the way Enid lets her jacket fall to the ground entirely.

And Enid’s laugh.

She chuckles at her insult, because even Wednesday herself knows nothing but endearment lined every word. Every ounce of her was enamored: with every strand of fur, every scar on her body, shade of blue in her eyes—

“Let me hold you tonight…” Enid asks, but the way she’s teetering them towards her bed is more of a statement. One that Wednesday can’t entirely fathom—she’s deliriously exhausted. She yawns, to which Enid presses a kiss to her temple and inhales.

Like Enid could smell the sand man tapping at their glass window.

Though the intimacy of the action serves to wake her enough to make it to bed on her own. She strips her jeans and leaves her sweater, willing her cheeks to return to their natural shade. One that didn’t make her more incriminating bodily reactions so obvious.

Blood red like a trail of blood that led to scene of the crime. She supposed her personal bed was fitting.

She’s spent many nights wishing for times like these. Plotting—thats being more generous to herself. Hoping and yearning is more like it.

She slides into bed with heavy feet, eyes and heart.

Enid barely lingers, just long enough for her to settle on her back. As they always do when they’ve shared in the past. It shouldn’t be any different this time, but pandora’s box was left open on her night stand.

Where Enid sets her phone before cuddling up to her.

Horribly enough…its the best sleep she’s had in years.

~

She slips from their room seamlessly. She’s learned to drown out Thing’s taps of protest like the hand of a clock ticking. He holds knowledge of nothing and she will not be lead astray by a hand.

“You can accompany me if you would like, but regardless you will keep your fingers still.” Its a half hearted threat, because she’s really only bitter towards herself.

She leaves Ophelia hall for the opposite end of the pond, so to speak. She’s steady on her feet, in spite of the parasite that tugs and pulls on her heart. She holds in gasps of pain as easy as ever.

She knocks meekly and tells herself she’s simply being stealthy.

Bianca opens the door with judgement suspiciously absent from her features. Still, she doesn’t look pleased by any means, eyes blinking away sleep and squinting at the invasion of light.

“I need your assistance.” Wednesday doesn’t beat around the bush. She pushed past Bianca, not caring what she’s interrupting.

Nothing she hasn’t been witness to before, unfortunately.

While the girl roomed alone as Enid had originally, there tended to be a certain pet in vicinity. At least she acted like one, curled up in the dark on Bianca’s bed, arm going to shield her eyes at the bit of light let in. Like the nocturnal creature of the night she was.

Her glasses were somewhere on Bianca’s nightstand most likely.

“No ‘good morning, hows your hangover Bianca? By the way can I come in?’” The siren snarks as she closes the door behind her with no other protest. “Also, shouldn’t you be in your post coital, love nest right about now?”

It reminds her of how sloppy she’d been—full moon filling place of inhibition and allowing anyone with eyes to see.

“Its of urgency, though I also must request confidentiality.” Wednesday replies blankly, standing center of the room. She looks briefly to Yoko on the bed again, as Bianca settles beside her.

“How are you even standing right now?” Yoko chimes with a grunt, peaking from behind her arm now that the door is closed.

“She had puppy therapy,” Bianca chimes with a smirk, looking to Wednesday in challenge. To which the seer only grows more impatient.

“I need your siren song.”

Then, a few things happen at once:

Yoko’s eyes bug wide, as she sits up in bed so quickly one would think she announced blood stock was low. Bianca’s face hardened, smile wiped from her lips as she looks to Wednesday with great intensity.

“Addams…what the hell?” Bianca exclaims her offense, but Wednesday doesn’t budge. She only looks on, even as the siren scoffs. “Its not even 8am and you want me to, what—‘make your feelings go away’ or some other self deprecating, overly tragic bullshit?”

Wednesday breathes out with an exasperated huff.

“I am not naive to think it would be that easy, nor would I ask that of you.” She states true, because it genuinely is. If the curse was that malleable, she would’ve long commissioned one of her kind to take her ability to love or care.

The only ignorant thing she’d done was believing those things didn’t exist for herself to begin with.

“However, I need you to assist in making someone talk.” Wednesday concludes, neutral as ever.

Yoko’s body relaxes, but still she lets out a disbelieving laugh as she lays her head on her girlfriend’s still tense shoulder.

“Yeah cause thats a less insane wake up call…” She mumbles and Wednesday snorts her un-amusement.

Bianca looks at her for a long time. Wednesday awaits, letting herself be bare to the judgmental siren. Leaves herself open to be manipulated for her truths if need be. 

Thankfully, although she has every right to be made to…she doesn’t have to beg. Bianca just sighs, looking as inconvenienced as ever. Crosses her legs, arms and cocks her head to narrow her eyes.

“I’m not above psychological warfare, but who do you have in mind?”

/

If men were simple, boys were dreadfully easy.

Ajax doesn’t even question the note slipped under his door. He just shrugs and gets dressed for his day, walking to the meeting place. Naively thinking Bianca wanted to speak of Nightshade business with him alone.

The siren sighs for nth time as they wait in the forest.

“I could’ve paid one of the other scales to assist me,” Wednesday comments after, from her spot on the ground. She was crouched and using her pocket knife to carve end of a stick.

The sharper it got, the more impatient she felt.

Bianca stands close by, texting against a tree and snorting at her words.

“I’m guessing you want me to ask you why you didn’t, but we all know you hate being vulnerable.” She replies with so much ease, Wednesday doesn’t argue. She just exhales and keeps sharpening the stick.

Yoko had wanted to be clear of ‘the crime scene’ as she didn’t have heart to lie to Enid more than she would already. The blonde had been texting her at sight of Wednesday’s empty bed. Bianca’s siren abilities acted like a cloaking frequency of sound.

Enid wouldn’t be able to smell, or sense her around the dog whistle like note.

It would make this process feel more…authentic. Crazy as she likely looks already.

Luring the (possible) ex partner of the person she’s holding more than a mere candle for. Flames threatened to consume her very being and though she’d love to burn with her arson—it wasn’t hers to take solace.

At least she couldn’t yet trust that it was.

Bianca stands a bit straighter suddenly, placing her phone in her pocket.

“I hear him.”

Wednesday nods, standing from the bottom of the tree stump and dusting off her skirt. She can also hear grass pushed down by sneakers and twigs snapping with every other step. Ajax was anything but subtle.

“Bianca? Are you out here yet?” He calls as he approaches the clearing. He adjusts his beanie as he confusedly stops in place.

The siren approaches from behind, unsuspecting and reaching out like flowing wind. Its quite mesmerizing watching her powers work. As she waves her arms and fingers drift as if she’s under water.

The grace and call of her voice as she begins to lull the boy into a sense of security.

“My song calls to you and demands to know all from your heart that is true…” Bianca whispers, her song directly filtering into his exposed ear.

Ajax looks to be in a haze, eyes drooping until he looks to be in REM cycle. Not sleeping, but not entirely there, either. Wednesday appears from her perch, hopping down from the branch of a tree.

She approached with fascination, not having witnessed the siren’s call but a few choice times. Bianca kept some of these techniques to her chest, aside from the times she echoed her thoughts in Wednesday’s brain to haunt her.

“He’s really under?” She asks quietly, a bit of wonder in her tone. Bianca’s expression was conflicted, but she nods slowly.

“Completely. Way easier than I thought, actually…maybe we should have some self preservation meetings after this.” Bianca ponders a loud, cocking her head at Ajax’s unmoving body.

He was almost zombie like, looking ahead with his mouth slightly parted and eyes full of nothing.

“And he will not tell a lie?” Wednesday asks, more timid than she means to. She’d meant to lead with as little feeling as possible, not wanting any bias to seep through.

Still, Bianca eyes her carefully for a long time before she nods.

“Not unless he’s been made to believe one to be true. He has no inhibition or filter at the moment,” Bianca explains with a shrug.

Wednesday exhales again, realizing how shakey her breathing had become. Its all becoming very real now.

“Look, I’ll take like a quick walk around and see how Yoko’s holding up with your—“ Bianca seems to stop herself from making a quip, instead making a vague hand gesture instead. Wednesday nods gratefully, not entirely wanting to think about that either.

She felt beyond the normal threshold of guilt already. May as well add a few more transgressions that actually assist in something.

“Your services are appreciated,” Wednesday answers, no longer hiding that bit of unnamed vulnerability. She looks to Bianca as seriously as she can. “Short of a blood pact, I believe myself to be indebted to you for far longer than either of us care for.”

The siren only laughs in her face, though she seems to actually relax for the first time since Wednesday woke her up.

“And I’ll be cashing in on that debt every chance I get.” She sings, before she makes herself scarce amidst the trees.

Until there stood two.

Two bodies at least, though Wednesday felt herself to be a husk in her own way. A chasm full of all she felt daft to voice, which tended to be most everything nowadays.

She sizes up the gorgon, from his shiny sneakers to the purple beanie on his head.

She supposes he’s harmless. He’d always been too much of a good person, making feeble attempts to be kind to her over the years. Always making time for Enid even, never making her sad outside of the time he’d accidentally stood her up.

He’s done not much wrong at all, really.

Likely never tortured or killed. Comes from a normal family—if you call snakes sprouting from the skull normal. They were more accommodated to modern society. Ajax was pleasant, a member of the Nightshades and holding the heart of someone as well meaning as Enid.

He loved her. The only thing he’d likely never do is love Enid more, but even that is no fault of his. Wednesday was cursed.

“I never quite know how to feel about you.” Wednesday states to his barely blinking eyes. Though, the boy does seem to respond to being addressed, looking down at her easily. She clenched her fists, “Its never been difficult for me to hate people. I find I’m naturally off put by the most well meaning creatures.”

Never been unsure of her spite. Often spoke with little to no regret, up until recently. She feels an accumulation of things when she looks at Ajax. All which were based by word of mouth, her own observation and…

Wednesday huffs, fingers picking polish from the nails. She was looking for unbridled honesty, was she not?

Theres a lense of jealousy that always clouded her perception of Ajax.

In reluctance to accept that, it was easier to pretend her hate was her default. Then battle with herself on why it didn’t sound right to say she’s apathetic about that.

Ajax makes a noise of life, throat clearing as he looks to have processed the fact that she’s in front of him.

“You always look at me really hard when you think I’m not looking,” Ajax replies casually. Wednesday’s mouth clamps shut and the gorgon only smiles kind as ever. “Its kinda scary…but I get it, you know? You love her too.”

Wednesday has to choke down a regrettable noise at that information.

Has to restrain the impulse to curse, to tell him that’s preposterous.

Even threats to his life, all her precious methods of torture…absolutely lost. She’s practically put herself on the pillary.

“Hey, I know you probably don’t think I’m too smart, but I’m not like…blind, I guess?” He adds on, tilting his head at how it sounds. Then he purses his lips in thought, all the while holding no visible malice. “At first I like almost said something. ‘Nid told me you’re just protective, but you’re like way over kill when it comes to her.”

Enid often made excuses for her. Always looked out for her, defending her—no matter how much Wednesday protests. For sake of making it all hurt less.

Though, its a bit late for that.

“Why didn’t you?” Wednesday asks, voice small. “I wouldn’t have fought back. In fact I likely deserved it.”

In all honesty, a decidedly mentally unwell part of her craved it.

Her expectations had been that perhaps the boy would rage at her, call her a freak for wanting his girlfriend. Call her out for her place in Enid’s life.

Tell her she’s a terrible friend.

Question her motives.

Ajax just looks terribly empathetic. As if he’s been trained on how to handle something that had quite literally been breaking Wednesday down to her bones. This moment in and of itself is like watching the thick layer of protective walls blocking her everything be hammered down.

An eery reminder of many, many moons ago. With her mother in their greenhouse, well meaning and fantastical.

It’s ludicrous that she’s standing in the woods with him being so hauntingly ok. Even feeling merciful enough to still smile, small as it was.

“I kinda started to really respect you...and feel bad too, sort of? Idk, like it didn’t technically effect anything at first,” He shrugs off handedly. “Also you never did anything to over step. At least I don’t think you did.”

That alone has her stomach curdling all over again.

Hadn’t she? Were the crumbs she allowed herself, to sustain her fragiled ego…were they not also in greed? Gluttony born of her selfish nature, always taking what she doesn’t deserve.

What’s not hers.

“She kissed me.” Wednesday blurts out, nearly breathless. Voicing it brings back the memory, which makes her chest yearn.

She had kissed back. Both times it had taken more than a few seconds to find strength to pull away.

And again, Ajax gives her that smile—though with the context she thinks she sees something like pity in those eyes. It makes her feel like throwing up on the ground in front of him.

Perhaps he needed to see it curdled up in bile, to understand just how wretched she feels.

“I know and I believe Enid when she said she started it. I just wanted her to get it over with honestly,” He stuffs his hands in his hoodie and kicks at a rock on the ground. “I admit, I may have let her get a little bit more hammered than I meant to—“

“Meant to?” Wednesday interjects with a bit of bite. More than she probably should, but the thought of that being purposeful made her fiercely angry on Enid’s behalf.

Ajax holds his hands up, in defense.

“I thought she needed a bit of liquid courage to finally make a move.” He answers, as if thats a valid answer. As if it had any sort of…sense, or rationale. And still he speaks on, as if he’s baffled on her reaction, “She’s always kinda liked me, but c’mon Wednesday she doesn’t love me. Not like that.”

And it doesn’t make any sense.

She must be hearing things. Must have gone mad, allowing herself to sleep in those arms. Wolf pheromones muddling up her comprehension.

Stolen hours of sleep, tranquility and rest thats made her delirious.

“That’s preposterous—I was under the false pretense that you could not lie.” Wednesday counters, physically rejecting the possibility of what he’s implying.

Enid was far better off—

“She literally said your name during…you know,” He makes a cringed expression, obviously uncomfortable with his own candidness. Even Wednesday, who’s now stock still and wide eyed.

Cheeks regrettably tinting pink.

“It’s embarrassing enough…I don’t know why she was so pressed to date me when she wants you so bad.” Ajax gestures off handedly at her, as if what he’s stating is something easy.

Elementary, or as rudimentary as any other easily grasped concept.

Painfully, her heart hammers by the second. To think their beats were synced all along for reasons other than threat of their lives.

That when she’s with him…

“I’m sorry.” It feels rather useless coming from her. Odd as it is that she’s apologizing at all, let alone to Ajax Petropolus of all people.

That she feels genuinely bad—nauseated even.

And again he shrugs, because…regretfully he already knows. Wednesday wasn’t as repressed in the ways she hoped.

“Don’t be, I mean like I said…you technically didn’t do anything. She just loves you, I guess.” He finishes lamely, before growing suddenly inquisitive. “But, uh—how come you’re asking me instead of her? Not that this isn’t kinda therapeutic low key.”

“I wouldn’t betray her trust with Bianca’s powers,” Wednesday answers firstly. She could never forgive herself for doing so without consent. “And I believed you to be an unbiased source. I felt if I heard it from you I would finally be able to feel a bit of indifference towards you.”

He bobs his head, brow quirking as he takes it in. Far more contemplative than Wednesday expected, though she didn’t actively wish for Enid to date far below her league. Even if not her—she trusted the wolf’s judgement of mate. She had no choice.

And now suddenly she does. Many, many ways to play this, apparently.

It should feel good…and yet—

“I told her I saw you head in the woods.” Ajax adds after more silence. Wednesday looks up to him incredulous, still reeling from the last onslaught of information. He chuckles, “You know, when we had the anniversary bonfire? Figured you two would’ve hooked up, or something, so I’m kinda confused on how we got here…”

And she could say the same, sans intentions that night. She’d been desperate to get away and leave the couple be.

Let Enid soak up the praise and embrace her lover without her solemn form shadowing pitifully.

She had just wanted to feel the harsh stump of a tree in her back again. Spend a concerning amount of time wondering what would’ve happened if she died.

How easy it would’ve been.

Instead she bares her personal bloodlust again in her hands; clenches her fists hard until nail dents in her palm draw blood. Glares at Ajax as hard as she can, because if she speaks—

“So…” He begins next, looking unsure. Wednesday braces herself for whatever candid train of thought she’d be privy too next. “What, uh…what now, then?”

Wednesday doesn’t dignify it with much response.

By then, thankfully she could hear Bianca’s foot steps once again approaching. The siren lurked behind him, a question in her eyes to which the Addams nods curtly.

She still felt ill in all honesty. As her fantasy clashes with reality.

Welds into it so hotly, it sparks her heart up her throat.

Bianca doesn’t waste time as she sneaks to claim the gorgon with her given charm. Ajax looks befuddled, then back to nothing at all once the siren opened her mouth again.

“Sleep…this was all a dream,” She waves her hand by his temple, letting the boy fall back into a trance like state. She looks him over briefly, before glancing at Wednesday curiously. “Not a scratch on him. What did you do this whole time?”

Wednesday scoffs her offense, as if she would need Bianca’s help to simply harm the boy. She’d never get anyone else’s hands dirty with that. It wouldn’t simply be murder—but a crime of passion that she can barely cope.

“Did you think I withheld my intentions?” Wednesday asks rhetorical and sarcastic. “I wanted answers and I got them.”

Some higher part of her, devoid of ego and pride, knows that she’s being a bitch. Lack of a better word, perhaps ungrateful—certainly rude. Bianca rolls with her mood regardless, simply working her magic and murmuring in Ajax’s ear again.

“Back to your room, as if nothing ever happened…maybe use the bathroom on the way.” Bianca tags the last bit on with a grimace, before patting the boy on the shoulder.

As if he’s blind to either of them, Ajax only nods and paces back from where he came. Like a puppet on invisible string, ignorant of where to go without someone else’s hand.

Still, it served well enough to mortify her.

“And he won’t have memory of this conversation?” Wednesday double checks, feeling disgust for herself at even needing the reassurance.

Bianca either pities her, or likely had grown exhausted from use of her powers. Her blue eyes look a bit dimmer and she doesn’t make any quip or remark. She just nods, once and short.

“Unless you want him to.”

Wednesday’s positive she makes an expression of great pain. Of the weight of her actions in a way. Lack there of, or not.

Theres the logical, cynical part of her that’s gotten so used to feeling things like guilt; so much so its the most prominent. In spite of how…contented it is.

Her heart—it beat eerily steady.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what I want.” Wednesday lies, rather vaguely answered. That conscience she’s grown won’t let her be entirely dishonest.

She used to feel so much more…confident.

“Well, I’d figure out something because Yoko’s about 20 minutes out from sending Enid to the pound.” Bianca replies after eyeing her phone, holding it with both hands and scanning quickly.

She holds it up to emphasize and Wednesday can’t read it from where she stands, but she exhales at the size of it.

“Sinclair sure is a piece of work,” Bianca mutters as she starts typing again. Wednesday offer reply of silence, knowing the siren didn’t need much to offer voice to her opinion. “She’s really lucky you’re obsessed with her, cause its high key not fair to you either.”

But is it not? When she aids in the blonde’s transgressions so willingly.

She can’t find it in her to be angry. She’s exhausted emoting as much as she has. The most she ever has.

“I’m an omen of death.” Wednesday answers with a shrug. Its not indifferent…she’s just tired.

Bianca has her arms crossed, looking at her in a way she’s not seen at this age. She remembers it from a few years back—with dirt still smudging her cheek and clothes that had been well over worn.

After Tyler.

Under that tent, where she restlessly watched Enid that night…yes, she remembers this look very well.

“In vessel of a person. You’re creepy as hell and I know I call you dead very lovingly and all that—“ Bianca holds to smile, gleaming with what all could be said. But, she doesn’t. “You aren’t made of stone, Addams.”

Theres a double entendre with that, she’s sure. With the distant steps of the boy they’d trapped.

The way it makes her undoubtedly feel inside…no, she supposed she isn’t.

/

She’s half expecting Enid to already be there. Standing in their room at the center.

Foreboding and beautiful, idle behind the ghost of where the line was once taped. Like a parallel to all those years ago.

Even now, she’s operating on routine. She knew Enid was usually in their room around this time. Although, she was likely still bullying the blood sucker up until Bianca stopped cloaking them.

So, she waits for her. As she’s always done—like the raven she is, bird perched and watching.

She ponders.

Plucks her own feathers in a game of she loves me, she loves me not…its still hard to believe. Swallows each jet black stalk down dry, testing her throats lining more than she already does.

At least she’s not nauseous for once. She should be, but the way she left Ajax has her light on her mattress. Sitting prim without weight on her back for the first time since she enrolled. Looking at Enid’s side of the room filled her with a juvenile kind of excitement.

Nearly has her leg bouncing wildly, anticipating the wolf.

Lets a bit of her petulant anger out, muttering curses at Thing, who was likely with Yoko; both still decidedly not engaging with the charade any longer.

Then, she loses steam as she remembers this game is coming to a close. To no real fault of his.

Spends a good fifteen minutes analyzing how she doesn’t feel bad at all. And why that shouldn’t be a good thing. When her foresight and touch is only tuned to discord and peril.

Death.

Its door opens and her personal reaper appears. In form of Enid finally appearing in heaved breaths, looking beautifully disheveled.

To cross the bridge of life.

Thats what lights behind Enid’s pupils, engulfing the brilliant jewels of her iris. Cerulean shades barely visible under monstrous intent—dilated to pounce even in Wednesday’s lack of movement. The only thing that tremors lay beneath the skin.

Her heart rate, first and foremost, the most cliche. Her stomach encompasses a flock of ravens, fluttering heavy wings and feathers prickling wherever they lay. Some in her chest, a few tickle her heart into a stutter.

Crowding her lungs and shooting up her windpipe. She doesn’t know what to say. The door closed behind the blonde with a softer noise than the moment deserved.

“You were gone.” Enid grumbles, though Wednesday isn’t sure. Its beast like, the way her ears were tipped animal like, peaking from under her hair. The canines that had elongated, bared and over taking her lips.

Hands at her sides, as her back is postured taut and her veins visibly throb under her skin—the beast rattles the cage.

Wednesday isn’t scared, she just…doesn’t understand.

“I had business to attend to,” She replies softly. Her voice airy in a way that betrayed her indifference. She’s flustered, she had no choice but to admit the beastly qualities fan flames of desire into inferno. Still, she keeps herself steady from her place on her bed, “Loose ends that I needed to tie in order to move forward.”

All the while, Enid’s been moving. Closer and closer she’d been stalking forward, as if Wednesday truly was a defenseless bird. Prey to be devoured—and she would let her. Give the wolf all she can, until it’s satisfied: her kidneys, her ribs, her thighs, her shoulders…

Like cuts of prime meat, fresh and raw—bred for no one else to taste.

No one else’s lips.

Its hard to keep her thoughts steady, to remember the boy she’d felt sorry for not even an hour ago. Is she herself not a monster? A callous thing, with no regard for others?

Enid inhales the air deep. Wafting in her every breath the closer she shoves her face into Wednesday’s form. Starting at top of her head, moving down the side of her face. Nose tickling her ear with huffing breaths, like the dog she hates being compared to.

A common house pet, had no business breathing against her jaw like this. Making Wednesday’s body shiver, to have those knife like teeth so close to her jugular.

She’s growling again, by the time she shoves her nose into Wednesday’s neck.

“You smell like fish.” Enid sneers, sounding not the least bit pleased. A noise nearly escapes the throat being nuzzled into.

Wednesday does care—she cares too much so.

For the way Enid’s scent reeked of a fresh garden, like home at the manor in her mother’s den. With pots of flowers in spring around the mansion, lingering smoke of her father’s habit. Sweet something from her brother’s treats.

Enid’s scenting her again and its so familiar, so comforting. She can’t be blamed for being selfish, if they’re so helplessly compatible. When Enid’s confirming it, cementing it in her skin.

And she’s sober.

Albeit not all there. Theres this film of another realm in Enid’s action and gaze. Like she’s in a possessive haze of her own nature.

Symboled by the rumble in her throat and gruff tone to her voice.

“I hate when you smell like her…like anyone else.” Enid states very candidly and after one final long inhale she sounds much more satisfied. Her eyes look a bit kinder, but still her pupils were wide and trained on her face. “I don’t like how much time you spend together.”

“And…why is that?” Wednesday asks carefully—slowly, because she’s almost fearing response. For sake of being wrong? Her ego? Her sanity?

Enid’s clawed hand grabs her neck. She’s choking without the fingers even pressing down the way she would need.

“She wants you.” Enid grits like its a simple answer and Wednesday’s just speaking in jest.

But she genuinely doesn’t grasp the concept. Even after forcing the gorgon to spill his truths, she can’t bear to see…

“Why should it matter?” She husks, defiant of the way she could die all over again. This time for Enid and at her hand.

Theres something to be said, the fact that every time she’s met Enid’s lips…its felt like dying.

The only thing thats sparked her up more and brought such euphoric feeling had been right before Goody’s healing touch. Her heart’s surely stopped, no longer operating to keep her alive.

It beat for Enid.

For every unholy meeting of lips as she leans further into Wednesday. Invaded her lonely pew of harbored confession. Until they’re falling backwards on her bed, Enid straddling her legs and pawing at her. Frantic hands, with nails that rake down every so often.

Going up her sides, down her arms, then scratching her scalp. Like Enid’s trying to commit every inch of her to memory with limited time.

Draw a path in blood and plasma that Wednesday’s keen to be used to pave.

It just makes her mouth drop open, sharp teeth catching her bottom lip to tease, before sliding an eager tongue into Wednesday’s mouth. She always thought she was the one, parched and thirsting.

Enid’s drinking her in greedily, Enid’s the one taking.

Though…is she really, when Wednesday’s wanted? Yearned and ached?

She’s whimpering when Enid pulls back, taking her bottom lip with her and tugging one last time. Pecking her bruised lips hotly one last time, then another and another.

Smearing lips across her cheeks and panting as she goes down her jaw. Nips and licks along the way, sucking harder when Wednesday can’t stay silent.

The wolf’s muscles tense and she growls so violently, the tremors shoot deliciously below her belly.

Then Enid raises fully, heaving breaths and eyes closed as she licks her chops. Wednesday watches rapt and nearly makes another more embarrassing noise. Instead she opts to try to catch her own breath and toss her eyes to the ceiling. Trace the molding of the castle walls and act like she’s not still aching.

Lucifer…would she ever have enough?

“My wolf, she…” Enid starts talking, only to stop herself. Gets caught on a breath and sigh, running hands down her own face and then through her hair. “Its hard. Really fucking hard.”

“Try. I’ll listen to every word.” No matter how nonsensical. Nonetheless if its comprehensible. Addams weren’t meant to make sense in this world.

She has to chide herself—she’s leaping miles ahead. Enid isn’t an Addams.

She’s always struggled with saying and doing things that everyone else might not like. Especially with her pack and family.

She’s still a Sinclair.

“Its just…my family only just started treating me like a person. Its complicated AF, because part of me has always wanted it, but another part is like damn.” Enid laughs humorously, hands moving animatedly. “Thats really all it took? I had to shift one freakin time to get them to, idk acknowledge me? Give a shit about what I’m doing?”

An echo of a previous conversation. This time without liquid barrier.

“And I don’t wanna…risk it…I guess.” Enid shrugs weakly. Moves off of Wednesday, which she both mourns and thanks for sake of thinking clearly. Enid settles next to her, laying on her back.

They’re both staring at the ceiling now.

Wednesday’s not going to prod—she can’t. She thinks it awfully anti climactic to lie down and die. It’s practically suicide, expecting anything more.

She doesn’t cry, she won’t cry. Not in the light of day, not where—

“But my wolf…Wednesday,” Enid breaths her name in an airy gasp. Like it put new oxygen in her lungs she grabs for Wednesday’s hand and turns over to lean on her elbow. Looks down at her feverishly, like it hurts not to be. “She howls for you. Constantly. It drives me crazy…”

She laughs a bit towards the end, like she knows how implausible it sounds. She has to, though. Does…does she enjoy this?

Having Wednesday in this torturous cycle? Was it simply rebellion?

Why did you kiss me.

Enid buries herself in her neck again, as if on cue. Noses at her neck and makes her thoughts fuzz and fur. Frolicking through an imaginary botanical garden, with flowers that always bloom—even though its only the 1st of January.

“E-Enid.” She detests how weak she is for it. She can barely lift her arms or will her body to not react. To not arch into the hand that plants itself into her shirt.

Wednesday knows her dignity has been depleted, when she (clemencia Lucifer) moans at the way Enid’s talons elongate and poke through to skin.

Enid preens, growling anew and then reigning it in with a bob of her throat. Swallowing the key for the wolf to lock up, blowing warm, heavy breaths against her collar.

Wednesday keeps her eyes to the ceiling, feebly trying to reclaim her own oxygen. Wish for a draft to cool her cheeks.

“She wants me to mark you.” Enid says after a lull of simply…this. Then more firmly, she’s clinging to Wednesday like vines in their fantasy garden. Still, the wolf sounds woefully needy, “A-And I mean, you keep leaving, so…“

Wednesday can’t speak with those lips so close to her throat. To make matters worse, a new kiss is placed, then more peppered. It feels like she’s suffocating.

What incomparable bliss.

“I don’t wanna let you go.” Is the punctuation to her show, along with a tentative nip of teeth.

She thinks it shocks her back to reality. She can’t live in Eden forever—its not her nature to leave forbidden anything, let alone fruit. She’s an Addams.

“You have a boyfriend.” Wednesday tries next, because its true. Even if they were ‘on a break’—whatever that means.

He’s always been there, background or not. Like Enid’s shadow that she can’t help but notice in light of day, after sins of night.

“It’s…complicated,” Enid trails sheepishly, shifting a bit closer (as if possible). “Sorry, not to be cliche. And I know it hasn’t been fair to either of you…guess I decided to be selfish for once in my life.”

Its a change of scenery, like a shift of season in their crop circle. New blooms in Enid’s offered perception. Wednesday had never thought to sow this ground in such a way.

Perhaps thats why she reaped what she did.

“Is it selfish, when I’ve never denied a chance to be in your favor?” Wednesday counters, to which Enid inhales sudden and noses her neck once more.

She keeps her eyes up. Lets the clock on her desk tick, tick, tick, tick, tick—

“Its selfish to take more than you need—I don’t need Ajax.” Enid says rather bluntly, trailing off just to wince. She makes an apologetic noise, “Yikes—that sounds terrible…doesn’t it?”

She laughs, albeit it’s in that way Enid managed with her charm; its back handed and highlighted the upbringing she was burdened. Swept under the rug.

Wednesday tried to understand. Tried to plant her own seeds, but her crops shriveled dry and barren.

“I just thought I needed to be certain things, or-or be the wolf I think others need me to be.” Enid finished, hands toying with anything in range. Wednesday’s fingers, her shirt hem, her sleeve.

And Wednesday doesn’t know how to understand. She likely never will.

How Enid cares so much about the world outside herself. She just knows its a need and Wednesday must give as the curse takes.

Grand circle of karma.

“And he’s a much safer bet.” Wednesday chimes in clear, so devoid of anything you’d almost think she’s not internally suffering. As she’s always done, she still feels obligated to say, “He loves you.”

His heart was pure. He was kind and well liked amongst their peers.

“He cares about me a lot yeah, but…he’s hella perceptive. That and it started to get suspicious when I couldn’t even hug him anymore without growling.” Its a paraphrasing of what she’d been told by the boy himself. Enid sighs, “I tried really hard to love him too.”

Wednesday tried really hard to let her.

“Surely there’s other suitors your wolf would find solace?” She’s a glutton for punishment, but ultimately she just wants Enid happy. Even if Wednesday doesn’t quite fit.

As an Addams she never would.

Enid shakes her head and grabs Wednesday’s jaw. She leans forward to place her lips against her forehead next.

“We don’t want anyone else, Wednesday.”

The gruff voice is welcome in her reverie. Its been too sweet, with nauseating, fresh budding gardenias encircling them. Her bed feels like an open plain.

The wolf and the girl have enough room to roam. Wednesday somehow feels she’s intruding.

Her steps treading in this botanical space without a care for anyone else. Trampling those flowers with each move, because her presence was so imposing. It left nothing but bare truths.

Her feet do nothing but crush the ground below. Its why she’s always preferred to keep above the clouds. Ravens were supposed to be content to just observe.

Claws in the dirt only meant one thing for someone like her. 

“I almost got you killed.” Wednesday’s speaking to both—be it the girl that at one time left for putting her in danger, or the wolf that stubbornly placed itself there.

Anomaly or not…fact is fact.

Wednesday wished she could voice the weight of the amount of time she’d had the very thought. Never spoken out loud, but sitting in her subconscious and haunting her.

Enid clicks her teeth shaking her head and squeezing her even tighter.

“We would do it again—a billion times over!” It lays bare the Lycan’s underbelly. Referring to them making that decision as a union.

And it so hopelessly completes her. To have her corpse and bury it too. Twin caskets and joint services and locked in a beautiful tomb.

Too gorgeous to glimpse too long, as she looks to the sky again. To gather her thoughts.

She’s so tired.

“I never told you what happened that day…when I died.” Wednesday bargains instead. Her macabre core values were written in blood of her ancestors. She lets Enid play with her fingers while she talks, “Rather, I withheld any details I deemed not pertinent. My mother has often been called a dove, but Goody had always referred to us as ravens.”

She hears and feels the hitch mid inhale at mention of her relative. She did tell Enid how she managed to live all those years ago. When the wolf kept insisting she smelled like death and so much blood.

But not much aside from Addams family oddity.

“Ravens are meant to walk a lonely path. I can’t promise the day won’t come that I predict the way you die and it—“ Wednesday paused, because the thought of being without Enid always made her so dreadfully full of woe. She lolls her head over to look at Enid and meets crystals glinting back at her already. “It troubles me.”

Because Wednesday truly doesn’t understand the appeal in knowing when you die. She could never predict her own.

“Didn’t peg you as someone who worried over things like that.” Enid replies soft, clear nerves in her tone.

It is something to pause and wonder, isn’t it?

Someone like Wednesday delaying the inevitable—especially that of the afterlife. When they spent their first moon together, with the Addams waxing poetic over the subject and her darling Nero.

She thinks its a fair comparison. Her beloved pet that was taken too soon. Enid found and buried a new sentimental bone in her body, deep in her skin.

Quite literally, her fingers run up and down Wednesday’s arm. Anticipating the words that had been hidden for so long, in spite of the way they’re all for her.

“You would be correct. I was raised to live everyday as my last, whether or not its legitimately so…and to respect others as they do the same, but I find not everyone deserves the luxury.” Wednesday’s being deathly honest, but Enid rolls her eyes with a smile.

She has to clear her throat, because she thinks it may be fond.

“And I find that you specifically…Enid, I’m not quite sure how to find peace with it.” Wednesday’s brows furrow and she has to swallow the flock of feelings that want to fly out of her throat. She chokes them down, “I can’t bear to picture burying you back into the Earth, without—“

“Wednesday…” Enid’s grinning ear to ear with watery eyes. Mouth agape as she huffs out another laugh, “I really do love you, you know. You’re the only one that…”

Enid looks at her in a way that implies she’s said it before. That Wednesday already knows.

“I would always.” Wednesday declares, rather announces, because it goes without saying as well. However… some things are worth voicing anyway. “I love you too.”

And she thinks in the same way poison shuts down your insides, alcohol acts as door to truth. Who you are at will of your maker—your rarest form.

Wednesday no longer wishes to wait to die to find out. If she’s indulged in the apple of her eye, golden curls in her fingers…

She takes another bite.

The fruit prunes, puckering her lips. Sweet in spite of it of it, she can’t help but eat and eat and eat—

She kisses Enid languidly, savoring each taste as if it could be her last. As if she’ll never have enough, she nibbles desperately at the core to harvest seeds.

Slips her tongue in to dig, garnering her own name in reply. Along with curved lips that let loose giggles akin to nights under tree tops.

“We’re…kind of a mess, huh?” Enid jokes, body thrumming like an eager puppy. One of the many times Wednesday thinks she could almost hear the wolf’s tail thumping its delight against the bed.

Her heart aches the way it always does, only she’s found a proper salve. She lets Enid hold her tight, pressing Wednesday’s head to her chest.

And she’s stiff as ever, because its all still blending together in her head.

So many things still left unsaid. She lets out a ‘hmph’ in its place.

“A foul mess, truly. I could only be so lucky.”