Chapter Text
The vintage halls of Nevermore were enduring a deadly force. A force that effortlessly divided the void of teenagers scattered in the vast walls of the main corridor. A force that left shudders of chill breeze rushing down people’s spines. A force that glared the sharpest of daggers at anybody who dared threaten its momentum, like a hawk descending for its prey.
That force?
None other than Wednesday Friday Addams herself — certifiably livid in her own right, stomping her combat boots against the old tiled floors without making an ounce of noise.
Why had she been so mad?
Not even five minutes before her current position, she’d had the torturous fate of attending a little chitchat with her parents — Morticia and Gomez — by means of the crystal ball perched on her wooden desk. A terrible gift indeed . . . and not just decor-wise.
Since the upcoming summer season had been rapidly approaching Nevermore’s weekly schedule, Wednesday’s parents took it upon themselves to plan their own escapade for the ensuing three months.
Of course, this hadn’t been a negative development. Her parents' absence at the manor had been the more favorable preference, actually; she wouldn’t have to attend mandatory family dinners every night if they were out and about in Paris, France, doing God knows what for their sexual extravaganzas.
Not that she cared.
Wednesday would rather light herself on fire than contemplate what her parents do in their free time — which was all of the time, upsettingly enough.
The problem with them being gone was that Gomez and Morticia — being the unruly instigators of Wednesday’s tolerance that they had been throughout her life — were virtually forcing her to request that her friends stay for the summer.
The entire summer.
All three months.
With her.
Enid Sinclair, Yoko Tanaka, Bianca Barclay, Ajax Petropolus, Kent and Divina she-didn’t-even-know-their-last-name, and Eugene Ottinger, who was to be invited via Pugsley — her friends.
Some of these relationships barely fell under the ‘friendly’ category, but even Wednesday could acknowledge that these people had grown on her like bloodsucking parasites seeking their next host.
That’s what she was now — a host. Figuratively and literally, much to her dismay.
Wednesday was counting on the fact that at least some of them would already have scheduled plans for their summer. If that was the case, fewer people would have to ‘keep her company,’ as her parents had so maliciously phrased it.
Marching through the halls with high ego and even higher hostility, Wednesday wordlessly approached the dining hall's double doors. Every one of her so-called ‘friends’ should’ve already begun their digestion of Nevermore’s attempts at oral death.
Breakfast.
Truthfully, the food cooked for meals wasn’t even half bad. Each dish was served buffet-style, meaning you didn’t have to ingest anything that you didn’t want to. Yet, Wednesday still viewed the whole concept as less-than-suitable for her picky taste buds.
She had a very, very specific palette — one that, surprisingly, had nothing to do with the fact that she was spoiled rotten by her parents and Grandmama in the culinary department growing up.
Alas, the group of diverse monsters and misfits she regularly acquainted herself with for . . . whatever reason.
Tightly wound braids swung as she ventured towards the cafeteria table — the custom, wrinkleless black uniform skirt faintly swaying as her legs kicked up the fabric.
Then, her arrival.
“Urchins, Fools, and Enid Sinclair,” Wednesday coldly greeted her fellow classmates, glaring at each person — or creature — idly sitting while chowing down their breakfast that morning.
Scrambled eggs and Italian sausage were the overall preference that day, she had seen.
Ajax smirked at her, taking a large bite of his omelet. “What an introduction.”
“Hardly, more like an accurate character description,” Wednesday corrected. There was an obvious bite to her tone — sharper, holding more edge than usual.
It didn’t go unnoticed.
“Damn. Who stuck a stick up your ass this morning, Addams?” Yoko asked, peering up at the goth over her decade-old shades, unscarred in the time she’s owned them. Impressive, almost.
Wednesday had never quite understood that phrase, not entirely. After hearing it from Tanaka the first time — which was under different, more playful circumstances — Enid had been the one to divulge to her intelligent but clueless roommate the implications.
“She just means that you’re acting a little bit more . . . tense than you normally do, you know? Like, she’d say the same about me if I were snappier with people, for whatever reason,” Enid had explained to her.
Of course, this wasn’t the only instance where Wednesday wouldn’t understand the connotation of something — it happened quite often, which ultimately left her inquiring about it with Enid.
But Enid didn’t mind; she thought it was endearing.
Remembering the meaning, Wednesday clenched her jaw. How she willingly associated herself with someone as witty as Yoko was deeply troubling.
“Nobody stuck anything up anywhere, for your information,” Wednesday seethed.
Yoko tilted her head, sucking on a blood packet. “You sure?”
Wednesday was only two seconds away from stabbing her with Ajax’s plastic spork before she got a hold of her reddening temper.
“If you must know, my parents are to blame for my exceptionally sour mood this morning . . . as they typically are,” she stated, holding herself back from gritting her teeth.
Sure, Wednesday — at the bare minimum — cared for these people, to an extent. Kinda. Well, she cared about Enid, that was for certain. When it came to the rest of the group, she held the same amount of care for them that she would for a squashed insect on the hot Jericho cement.
Bianca rolled her eyes. “Girl, you’re always in a sour mood.”
“Hence my use of the word, ‘exceptionally,’” Wednesday firmly told her, staring down at the siren as if she’d just manipulated and brutally murdered her entire bloodline.
Sensing the heightening rigid posture in her roommate’s shoulders, Enid was the one to ease the tension consuming the table. At least, she attempted to ease the tension. She’d always been good at gauging when her friends were particularly close to pushing Wednesday too far with their teasing.
They loved Wednesday, but they were frequently ignorant of the girl’s poorly suppressed emotions.
“What’d your parents do?” Enid then questioned. Her voice was as it always was — inviting, kind, enough to make Wednesday’s anger visibly decrease.
A faint huff escaped Wednesday’s nose as she calmed herself, still aggravated by the nuisance that was her parents' demands.
Yoko just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Oh shit, she huffed. It must be serious.”
Wednesday shot her attention towards the vampire. “If you were not Enid’s closest friend, you would be strategically positioned six feet underground,” she threatened.
Everyone at the table knew it was genuine.
Divina took a bite of her apple, nudging her girlfriend — Yoko — with her elbow. “Thank God for Enid, then.”
“God is not to be thanked for Enid’s continued survival. However, if she wickedly parts this word, you are first on my list for prompt execution. Mark my words,” Wednesday retorted.
Kent tilted his head in a manner that could only be blamed on an early-morning smoke session with Ajax. “You sure nobody put a stick up your ass while you were sleeping or something?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
High or not, Wednesday was having none of it.
With fast, practiced precision, she reached into her right skirt pocket for her silver blade — one with W.A. engraved at the base, just to let people know in case they hadn't already.
With one deliberate movement, she chucked the blade at the siren twin, directing it right between Kent’s scaled fingers when he reached for his drink.
He paused with widened blue eyes, halting his hand before the freshly sharpened edge cut off into his flesh.
Wednesday suppressed a smirk at the silence. “Next time, I will not miss, Kenneth,” she informed him, nonchalantly grabbing the blade as if she hadn’t threatened to amputate his index finger.
A low whistle was heard from Divina. “Government name, damn.”
Enid redirected the conversation once again, successfully this time. “What did they say, Wens?”
There was a bright smile on her face, lightening the shaded darkness of Wednesday’s dim shadow. That tone, that voice, that ever-so-persistent cheer — Wednesday could simply die, and Enid would be the cause.
Not all roommates were as colorfully vibrant as her, surely. Yet, Wednesday didn’t appreciate the notion of having somebody . . . duller to share a dorm with.
What a horrifying concept.
She clenched her jaw before answering.
“My parents, Grandmama, Uncle Fester, and Pubert are going away to Paris for the summer. Supposedly, they are handling financial affairs, but this is neither here nor there,” Wednesday began.
Tucking her hands neatly behind her back, intertwining her dexterous fingers, straightening her perfect posture — she looked rather uncomfortable, like such words weren’t meant to escape her mouth.
Oh, the price of being mannerly.
She continued. “With that arrangement, only Lurch, Pugsley, Thing, and my cousin, Parker, will be staying at the manor for the upcoming months.”
Wednesday wished it had just been her at the manor with the exception of Lurch and Thing, perhaps. Pugsley and Parker, on the other hand . . .
They could rightfully be excused.
She loved them, indeed. However, she didn’t like them. Not in the way most people, quote-on-quite, ‘liked’ their family members.
Parker wasn’t a blood relative. Her Normie mother had married Uncle Fester a couple of years prior, but Wednesday felt the same towards her as she did her biological family.
Loathing that lacked any sincerity.
“My parents have taken it upon themselves to request that you all—“ Wednesday stopped, the words physically disrupting her throat due to how unfamiliar they were. “ —accompany me for the summer season. Against my will. For the entire summer. Without consulting me. At all. For three months.”
A beat.
Then—
“That was the absolute worst invite I’ve ever heard,” Bianca stated, smirking away.
Ajax nodded his head, taking a spoonful of his Fruit Loops. “Truly, a work of shitty art,” he agreed.
Even Enid couldn’t deny the painfully evident. “Yeah, sorry, Wens. That was, like, really bad. But it was an attempt, though!” She was polite about it, at least.
Wednesday clenched her jaw harder. “Are you all coming or not? Because I can always retract the invitation—“
“Okay!” Yoko cut her off, clapping her hands together once. “No, there’s—there’s no need to take back the invitation,” she said, gently shaking her head.
Wednesday quirked her brow, interested in the sudden change. Looks like somebody has experienced a change of mind , she thought.
Yoko merely shrugged, unbothered. “Honestly, I’ve always wanted to go to the Addams family manor.”
Frankly, it was a fair statement. Who wouldn’t want to visit the house of the world's richest Outcasts? Even most vampire bloodlines — despite having the upper hand with generational wealth, though the Addams had that as well — didn’t hold the same funds as Wednesday’s family.
Declining a stay at the Addams' residence was akin to vetoing a free key to a five-star hotel suite, one with gothic architecture and a dead butler.
“Totally. I mean, the Addams are crazy rich,” Divina said, sharing the overall sentiment.
Wednesday looked down at her, still standing — opposing the others in position. “We prefer the term ‘wealthy.’”
Ajax snorted. “They’re so rich, they don’t even say the word ‘rich.’”
“Does this collective amusement constitute a ‘yes,’ and that you all will be in attendance?” Wednesday asked, her already-fleeting patience growing even thinner.
Enid smirked at the girl. There was a glimmer in her eye, one that only Wednesday had ever been on the receiving end of. “You phrase that like it’s a formal event,” she playfully added.
Glaring with no malice, Wednesday responded, “Every event is a formal event.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. “Oh, Jesus Christ—“
“Okay! If nobody's gonna be the first one to accept the offer, let me,” Enid interrupted, turning her attention back to Wednesday with a smile. “Yes, Wens. I’d love to spend the summer with you.”
Wednesday stared at her. “And Lurch, Pugsley, Thing, and Parker.”
Enid gave her a charming smile, knowing. “And Lurch, Pugsley, Thing, and Parker,” she rephrased.
Another beat — shorter, more full of thoughtful contemplation amongst the table.
Throwing her hands dramatically in the air, Yoko conceded. “You know what? Fuck it. I’ll go too.”
Bianca was quick to follow. “Same, but if I leave without a limb, I’m suing,” she seriously added, pointing at Wednesday.
With a curt nod, Wednesday replied, “I look forward to it. Anyone else?”
There was a look around the group, examining every facial expression in an attempt to understand what her acquaintances — friends — might’ve been thinking.
Enid was doing the same, silently wondering if anybody would have the sheer audacity to decline such a kind offer. Reluctant? Yes. But a sweet offer, nonetheless.
Kent agreed next, shrugging his shoulders with a mouthful of eggs. “Sure, why not? I’ve always wanted to know what environment Addams grew up in to make her like this.”
Ajax spoke next. “Same,” he said, not adding any more context. The high was undoubtedly leaving him with fewer brain cells than usual.
“Grandmama woke me up with an axe to the door every morning,” Wednesday stoically told them.
Kent paused, surprised.
Why?
Wednesday hadn’t the slightest of ideas.
“That—is a perfect example of what I’m talking about,” he said after a minute.
Thinking to herself, Wednesday went over the proper steps to take following the acceptance of everybody’s invitations. How awful, nobody declined, she thought.
“Very well. I will inform my parents of this . . . catastrophic arrangement before dinner this evening. Do purchase any items needed for the stay this week, as well. It will do you good to be prepared for the chaos that is my familial residence.”
Then — wordless with a deadly sense of elegance, she vacated from the group, fully leaving the noisy, germ-riddled dining hall altogether.
Another beat.
Yoko broke the silence, as she normally did. “Why do I feel like I just signed my life away to Wednesday Addams?” she asked, glancing around.
“Okay, good,” Bianca sighed.
“Why good?”
“Now I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.”
However, Enid could only roll her eyes.
Her friends all wanted to spend the summer at the Addams manor, but Enid . . . she couldn’t wait to spend the summer with Wednesday.
This was going to be amazing — she could feel it.