Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The last hour before curfew had been a whirlwind for Enid. Her pulse still raced as she slipped out of Thisbie Hall, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no prefects were lurking, then hurried across the dimly lit courtyard toward Ophelia Hall. She still couldn't believe it—Bruno Yuson, one of the Furs she'd been crushing on since her first day back at Nevermore, had actually asked her out.

Her mind replayed every detail with each step: the twitch of his ears, that grin that made her stomach somersault, the low, almost shy way he'd said he liked her. Her cheeks burned at the thought, a grin tugging at her lips even as her heart pounded with the fear of being caught. The hallways of Nevermore felt unnaturally loud tonight, every creak of the floorboards and flicker of lanternlight daring her to mess up. Nothing mattered, though—not when Bruno's smile was still burned into her mind.

Everything had happened so fast. During the whole fiasco with Wednesday's psycho fangirl—the one who'd tried to kill them both—Bruno had kissed her right after she'd admitted she couldn't imagine her life without Wednesday. Trapped, adrenaline still thrumming through her veins, it had felt completely unreal. And now… he had actually asked her out.

Enid stopped at the entrance to her dorm, blinking. Seriously… why had that been the trigger? Her words had been about Wednesday, and yet the way Bruno murmured that he wanted someone like that, too, made her heart go haywire. His kiss right after? Yeah… her brain was officially scrambled.

She tried to brush away the lingering confusion, but as she reached the circular staircase, her ears perked. Even though the hallway was empty, Enid could sense a pair of soft, rushed footsteps passing her. Her wolf instincts stirred, memories of the day pushing her forward as she hurried up the stairs, determined to reach the room she was sure the intruder had been in while she was away.

Once inside, Enid’s eyes landed on the one person she least wanted to see. “What the hell was that little psycho doing in here?”

“I allowed her in,” Wednesday said flatly, her attention still on her typewriter.

That stung more than Enid wanted to admit. Ever since Wednesday had that freaky vision with the black tears—right after Enid touched her, no less—things had been off between them. Wednesday hadn’t exactly said what she saw, but Enid could tell it wasn’t good. The girl had been pulling away ever since, leaving Enid to guess and stew in silence. It was starting to get seriously annoying. Instead of fluttery warmth like she felt with Bruno, all Enid had now was this weird emptiness gnawing at her, and she hated it.

“One more step forward and I am going to stab you,” Wednesday said, not looking back from her typing. 

“Shut up. You know I can’t stand that little psycho. Why was she even in here?” Enid snapped, her patience worn thin. Wednesday had once again managed to ruin her mood.

“After the attack, she insisted on making herself useful,” Wednesday replied flatly, her gaze unblinking as she turned from the typewriter. “I see no reason to reject free labor. Besides, weren’t you otherwise occupied with the Fur?”

Enid’s claws flexed against her arms. “His name is Bruno. And stop dodging the question.”

Wednesday’s gaze didn’t waver, calm and precise as ever. “The gorgon came looking for you. You may consider yourself fortunate that Agnes intervened and prevented him from inquiring further.”

Enid ground her teeth. She still needed to talk to Ajax about their relationship, but her mind was too crowded for that right now—and Wednesday knew it. Anger boiled in her chest, and despite the earlier warning, her legs carried her forward.

“Are you seriously praising her right now? She tried to kill me today, and you’re letting her in here?!” she growled, arms crossed, claws pressing lightly into her skin. “Do you even care about our friendship… about me?”

“That should not be in dispute, Enid,” Wednesday murmured. For a fleeting instant, something unguarded flickered across her face, then vanished as her expression reset into its mask of indifference.

“Then why did you let her in here? Without even telling me?” Enid snapped, her voice sharper than intended. Her fingers clawed through her hair as if she could tear out the pressure building in her skull.

Enid’s jaw tingled, her teeth seeming sharper than they should. Restless energy burned through her veins, the wolf clawing closer to the surface even though the moon held no sway tonight. She didn’t understand why it was happening now—only that it was.

The scrape of Wednesday’s chair cut through the silence, followed by the measured cadence of her boots crossing the floor.

“Enid?”

The werewolf lifted her head, voice unsteady but fierce. “You tell me I shouldn’t question our friendship—then why are you pushing me away?” Her nails dug into her skin, the sting barely enough to anchor her. “Yes, I’ve been with my pack, but I asked you to hang out several times already. I wanted you there, Wednesday. With me.”

The words lingered in the room, raw and vulnerable, as she fixed her gaze on the creaky hardwood floor, as if boring holes into it could make her pain tangible.

“You are being unreasonable, Enid. Control yourself,” Wednesday said, her tone clipped, eyes unblinking. “I have been preoccupied with the case. Unlike adolescent dramas, murders do not solve themselves.”

Enid’s breath hitched, anger flaring hotter. “Preoccupied? No—you’re obsessed. You won’t tell me anything about this vision, and ever since that night, you’ve done nothing but avoid me.”

Her voice cracked, but the fury underneath didn’t waver. It only grew. Every thought of Wednesday with that girl—too young, too eager, orbiting her like she was the only thing that mattered—made Enid’s stomach twist. Her blood boiled just by picturing it.

She could feel the wolf stirring. It wasn’t the moon, it wasn’t the timing—it was her. The ache crawled down her jaw, sharp and insistent, her teeth pressing against her gums like they wanted out. Wednesday always did this to her. Always so single-minded, so cold, so unreachable whenever she latched onto a mystery. And Enid hated how it made her feel—forgotten, invisible, replaceable.

Her nails dug into her palms. Her chest rose and fell too fast. The pressure inside her swelled until it broke.

“ Shit, I need to bite something so bad!” The words tore from her, ragged and desperate. Her hands clutched at her head as though she could hold herself together by force.

Wednesday didn’t flinch. “An object?” she asked evenly, her gaze fixed and unwavering. Her voice was so calm, so clinical, that it only made Enid flush harder. Because, of course, Wednesday had cut right to the truth. That was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah…” Enid admitted, her voice small, unsteady. “Anything soft. When I was little—when my baby teeth were coming in—I used to chew on my mom’s skin just to make the pain stop.” She swallowed hard, fingers brushing her lips. “These canines are still new to me, and I didn’t expect them to feel like this.”

“…Then you may bite me,” Wednesday said, rolling up her sleeve, her expression unreadable.

“What?” Enid nearly shouted, her sharpened teeth grazing her bottom lip. “Ow, ow.”

Wednesday moved to her bed, sitting with that same calm, unreadable expression. She extended her arm toward Enid. “I said, bite me as you did with your mother when you were a child.”

Something inside her snapped at those words. The pale arm Wednesday offered wasn’t soft—not enough to fully ease the ache in her teeth—but it would have to do. Instinct surged through her. Enid leaned in, eyes fixed on her roommate, who sat perfectly still, radiating that unnerving calm.

Wednesday wore her usual dark ensemble: a fitted black blouse with a slightly loose neckline that revealed just a hint of her collarbone, slim black trousers, and polished boots. The pale skin visible through the blouse’s opening drew Enid’s gaze, demanding attention.

Still in her Doc Martens and school uniform, Enid perched on the edge of the bed, closing the distance. She didn’t simply lower her head to reach Wednesday’s arm. Instead, she nudged her roommate slightly forward and, with careful precision, slid her claws into the loose neckline, tugging it just enough to reveal the smooth curve of her shoulder and the line of her neck. Every movement was deliberate, guided by the wolf stirring within her, yet her gaze never wavered from the composed figure who silently allowed her approach.

“What are you—”

“You owe me!” Enid cut her off, leaning in before she could think better of it.

Wednesday exhaled quietly, the sharp intake that followed pulling Enid closer. Her teeth grazed the pale skin, and her hand clenched instinctively around the fabric of Wednesday’s top. The wolf inside her stilled instantly, soothed by the familiar scent of ink and ash clinging to Wednesday like a second skin. Every nerve felt alive; the warmth and slight give beneath her mouth awakened every sense. Instead of letting it spiral, she focused on the rhythm—on how grounding it was just to be here.

She paused to catch her breath, her tongue brushing lightly against the bruised spot, gentle pressure soothing the sharp edge of her teeth. Her heart still raced, but the tension inside her eased just enough to bite down again on the tender skin. All those ridiculous stories about werewolf bites being some kind of bonding mark? Total nonsense. In human form, a bite didn’t do much. Lupin form, though… that was another story entirely.

A faint hum slipped from her throat as a subtle tremor ran through Wednesday—not resistance, exactly. Almost the opposite. Strange. Inviting. Enid pulled back just enough to murmur near her ear, “Why aren’t you pushing me away?” Her voice carried more confidence than she felt, tinged with a playful edge, as she tested the calm, composed roommate before her.

That was the thing with Wednesday. Enid could test her limits, tease her, even pull a prank or two. Wednesday would endure it, sometimes even indulge it—until she didn’t. The moment Enid spotted that flicker of unease, the wall went up again. Tonight, though, there was no wall.

“You’re insufferable,” Wednesday replied at last, her voice steady, deliberate, but quieter than usual. “…and apparently, so am I. Because I find this oddly comforting.”

The words landed heavier than Enid expected, warmer too. Wednesday’s grip on her blazer tightened again—subtle, unconscious, not the precise control she usually maintained. That tiny slip was enough to draw Enid back in, her lips brushing against the sharp line of Wednesday’s jaw, softer now, gentler.

Her wolf stirred less urgently, the sharp edge of her teeth dulling back to normal, claws relaxing as the restlessness inside her ebbed. The heightened awareness lingered faintly, but the fierce, instinctive drive had softened, leaving her focused, present, and in control. The scrape of her teeth against Wednesday’s throat and the deliberate slide of callused fingers through her hair became almost meditative. Wednesday unclipped one of her colorful hairclips with careful precision, combing through the strands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Enid closed her eyes, breath catching. Wednesday didn’t reach for people, didn’t initiate—but when she did, it felt like the whole world tilted, as if Enid had stepped into a space no one else was allowed. Memories of their hug last year surfaced unbidden, how warm it had felt to hold Wednesday close. She let the thought settle in her chest, leaning in just enough, careful not to ruin the moment with questions. For now, Wednesday’s quiet touch was enough.

The sensation, though, was strange. Wednesday’s nails scratched lightly against her scalp in a slow, steady rhythm, and a twitch shot down Enid’s leg like some stupid dog reflex. Heat flared across her face as she forced it still, silently begging Wednesday not to notice. Then came the worst impulses—the urge to nuzzle into her neck, to press a hand against the steady beat of her chest. Enid’s stomach knotted. She hated when her wolf traits slipped through like this, clumsy and hard to hide. Most in her pack never cared, but Enid always did—especially here, where the thought of Wednesday seeing her lose control made her skin crawl.

“Don’t hold back. There is no shame in your nature,” Wednesday said evenly. Of course, she would notice.

“You’re one to talk, considering the way your parents behave in public,” Enid scoffed.

The words landed. Wednesday stiffened, the slightest crack in her usually impenetrable composure. Enid caught it instantly, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. She lived for moments like this—those rare times when she managed to knock Wednesday off balance, when the razor-sharp Addams faltered instead of striking back. The sight alone sent a pulse of exhilaration through her.

The thrill didn’t last. Wednesday’s hand shot out, shoving her back with a glare so sharp it felt like a blade pressed to her skin. It wasn’t enough to hurt, not really, but Enid didn’t need pain to know she’d hit her mark. Her words had been true, whether Wednesday chose to admit it or not.

“I should skin you alive,” Wednesday said flatly, swinging her legs off the bed. “Vacate it, Sinclair. I have no patience for your fleas.”

Enid laughed at the threat and rolled her eyes at the insult. It was so typically Wednesday, threatening first and sneering second, that she couldn’t help but giggle. She stayed sprawled across the mattress, still on Wednesday’s bed, lounging with a guilty little grin as she savored the rare satisfaction of having unsettled the usually unshakable Addams.

“I’m just being real. Not my fault, you don’t let your inner Addams unleash,” Enid teased, watching Wednesday settle back into her chair and prepare her typewriter.

“You are testing the limits of my restraint, Enid.”

“Haha, okay, okay, I’m done,” Enid laughed, hopping off the black-covered bed and retreating to the bright, chaotic comfort of her own side. She stood there for a moment, her grin fading into something sharper. “I still hate Agnes, y’know?”

“I am aware,” Wednesday replied, her tone flat and steady as ever.

Enid pulled open her drawer and grabbed her sleepwear, heading toward the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly. Her mind betrayed her almost instantly, circling back to Wednesday—the sharp line of her jaw, the feel of pale skin beneath her teeth. A tremor rippled through her, her wolf stirring restlessly, rattling its cage inside her chest. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake it off, but the heat rising up her neck refused to be ignored.

The next few days were almost normal, except for both her and Wednesday totally ignoring what had happened in their dorm room. Enid could still spot the reddened skin on Wednesday’s neck whenever it was exposed, reminding her of her reckless behavior and guilt.

A sigh escaped her lips, and instead of listening to the gossip coming from the girls of her wolf pack, she listened to Bruno’s own concern for her lack of appetite. Enid kept her fixation on the girl who walked into the quad, those precise strides, fast but with purpose. The wolf watched as her roommate made brief eye contact before turning her attention to—

Huh? Was this a joke!? 

There, like clockwork, Agnes, Wednesday’s psycho stalker fangirl, used that moment to appear out of thin air with that creepy smile. Oh, that red-haired pest really made Enid’s stomach churn, and her wolf was just as enraged. 

She ground her teeth together as the same burning sensation she endured that night returned. Wednesday, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care, looking at the documents Agnes handed over to her. Just the sight of her best friend seeming satisfied with someone else’s help made Enid’s leg twitch, which was totally out of character for her. 

“Hey,” Bruno spoke up across from her. “Go tell her you’re feeling left out.” 

“You say that as if it’s that easy…” She frowned and turned back to look at Wednesday and Agnes. 

“All I’m saying is it’s worth a try, Enid.” He shrugged and then turned back to talk to one of the boys within the pack. 

Enid sighed at that, pushing herself off the bench with a heaviness she couldn’t shake. Her steps were slow at first, each one deliberate as she made her way toward Wednesday and Agnes. The closer she got, the tighter her chest felt. She straightened when she was only a few meters away, shoulders squaring as her arms folded across her chest.

Her eyes locked on Agnes. For a moment, the wolf in her stirred, restless and loud, urging her forward. She forced it back, jaw tightening as she fought to stay calm.

“Hello, puppy. What unfortunate circumstances do we have in speaking with you?” Agnes asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness as her gaze lingered in that unnervingly creepy way of hers.

“Enough, you little psycho.” Enid’s voice came out low, the words edged with a growl. Her eyes shifted to Wednesday, the anger in them softening just a fraction. “I’m here to talk to Wednesday. Alone.”

At the sound of her tone, Wednesday went rigid. Her lips trembled just slightly as her dark eyes locked on Enid’s and stayed there. She said nothing and did not move, only watched her with an unblinking stare.

The wolf took that as permission and seized the raven’s wrist, pulling her out of the courtyard. Wednesday still clutched the papers Agnes had given her, the crinkled edges digging into her palm as Enid led her onward. A looming shape rose against the gray sky, achingly familiar, and the memory of it made Enid’s chest tighten.

“What the hell are you doing with her again? After everything she’s pulled? I’m not letting her get near you,” she muttered, her voice rough and tense. The closer they got, the heavier the air felt. It carried the scent of something ashy, along with grime and something metallic that reminded her too much of what had happened here before.

“That is none of your concern, Enid,” Wednesday said, her tone even and unbothered. She pulled her wrist free the moment they reached the door, her expression unreadable.

“Well, unfortunately, it is,” Enid replied, her voice controlled rather than angry. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, the hinges letting out a long, tired groan as they stepped inside.

The tower looked almost exactly as it had that night, with cracked walls, narrow windows, and thin streams of light cutting through the gloom. The air felt stale and heavy, and Enid’s heartbeat echoed loudly in the silence.

“I told you I don’t like you hanging around that little psycho,” she muttered, her frustration slipping through. “Seriously, what could she possibly give you that I can’t?”

Wednesday turned to her, eyes steady, unreadable. She took a slow step closer, as if studying something only she could see.

“Your canines are protruding again, Enid,” she said quietly. Her gaze flicked to Enid’s mouth, catching the faint glint of teeth. “How revealing.”

“What? Shit—” Enid’s hand flew to her lips. “Not again.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth betraying amusement. “Is this the part where you feel compelled to bite something?” she asked, her voice quiet, measured.

Enid’s jaw clenched. She narrowed her eyes, knowing it was useless to deny it. Beneath her skin, a pulse throbbed, insistent, demanding release. She needed to bite something, to anchor herself, but admitting it to Wednesday felt somehow more exposing than the urge itself. Her gaze flicked toward the neat fold of Wednesday’s collar, then jerked away, heart hammering.

“You’re enjoying my suffering, aren’t you?” she muttered, voice rough.

“Perhaps,” Wednesday said, voice steady, almost clinical. “I have always found werewolf anatomy… fascinating. Particularly the transformation process.”

Enid let out a harsh, humorless laugh, rubbing at her forearm. “Yeah. Bones cracking, a wolf tearing its way out… super fascinating when it’s someone else. Not so much when it’s you.” Her voice softened, betraying how raw it still felt. She looked up again, meeting Wednesday’s calm, dark eyes. “But… since you asked. Yeah. I do need to bite something.”

Wednesday did not flinch. She stayed perfectly still, unblinking, studying Enid. “If it will restore your composure,” she said quietly, voice low and even, “I suggest you get it over with.”

Enid wanted to argue, but the words echoed in her head like a warning. Her teeth ached, sharp and insistent, and the tension in her jaw sent a dull thrum through her skull. Instinct took over before she could think. Her hand shot out, fingertips brushing the smooth fabric of Wednesday’s tie. The cool material pressed against her fingers, contrasting with the heat building in her own skin.

A faint sound reached her ears, rhythmic and soft, almost imperceptible but unmistakable. Wednesday’s pulse was steady yet faster than usual. She was nervous, though she did not let it show. 

Enid’s lips curved slightly, a small, instinctive smile tugging at her features. Her fingers lingered at the knot of the tie, the crisp fabric pressing lightly under her touch, and for a moment she hesitated before tugging it free. Her hand trembled slightly as she moved to the top buttons of Wednesday’s blouse, sliding them open one by one. The soft material shifted easily beneath her fingers, warm from the body beneath it. Pale skin of Wednesday’s neck was revealed, smooth and unyielding, with faint traces of pink where past marks still lingered.

“Enid, just do it already, you’re salivating,” Wednesday said, her sharp tongue cutting through the quiet, reaching Enid’s twitching ears. The words were clipped, annoyed, and almost scolding, and they sent a shiver down Enid’s spine.

“Your heartbeat is erratic. I can’t help but want to listen, Wednesday,” Enid whispered, leaning in. The wolf in her howled, an almost primal demand, as she pressed her nose to the same spot she had chewed on the last time this had happened. The faint scent of iron and her own adrenaline filled her senses, making her instincts scream.

A subtle tremor ran through Wednesday’s shoulder, and Enid smirked, a small thrill of satisfaction running through her veins. Just as she bared her fangs, a faint, almost inaudible sound reached her ears. Soft at first, a shuffling of feet, but it carried weight enough to make her pause. Her focus snapped, and she pulled back immediately, breath unsteady. Only then did she notice Wednesday’s eyes were closed, her face fragile in a way that seemed almost childlike, the earlier shudder still lingering in the air between them.

Enid’s senses remained alert, pulse racing, every nerve alive. Movement at the edge of her perception made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She shifted her gaze toward the entrance and froze.

There, hesitating in the doorway, stood Ajax. His wide eyes and deer-in-the-headlights expression made him seem smaller somehow, hands raised instinctively. He took a tentative step back, caught in the tension radiating between them. The sunlight from the tower windows fell across his face, highlighting the panic in his expression. The sudden intrusion made the already charged air feel even heavier.

Enid’s pulse still thudded, but the primal edge of her instincts receded as she took in the intruder. Wednesday’s eyes opened slowly, her usual composure returning. She turned toward him, gaze steady and expression unreadable.

“You lack timing,” she said simply. Her voice was measured, stating a fact she had already accepted.

Ajax blinked, stammered, “Shit, I’m so sorry, um…” and bolted through the door.

Enid removed her hands from Wednesday’s shoulders, her cheeks burning. She pressed her fingers to her face, stunned, and turned toward the door, frozen for a moment. She did not even know what to say as the rustle of clothing and the snap of buttons hit her like a brick wall. Her chest heaved, every nerve still tingling from the sudden, unbroken intimacy.

What had she just been doing?

Her mind raced. Heat surged through her, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. She had no idea, and the thought scared her, yet she was already moving, instinct driving her forward. She sprinted after Ajax, leaving Wednesday behind for the moment, even as the sound of labored breathing echoed from somewhere down the corridor.

Dammit. She’d deal with the little psycho later. First, Ajax.

Enid caught up to Ajax in seconds once she dropped into a crouch and sprinted on all fours. The forest blurred around her as branches clawed at her sleeves and leaves scattered in her wake. The wolf in her surged forward with every pounding heartbeat until she collided with him, the impact knocking them both to the ground. Dirt scattered beneath them, and a startled grunt escaped Ajax as the air rushed from his lungs.

She held him there for only a moment before pushing herself off, stumbling slightly as she forced her breathing to steady. Her wolf side slowly ebbed, the edge of her instincts softening as adrenaline still hummed beneath her skin. They stared at each other, chests rising and falling in sync. Her eyes still glowed faintly gold, and when she drew in a sharp breath, the edge of her fangs caught the light. Ajax blinked up at her, still disoriented, brushing at the dirt smudged across his school hoodie.

For a fleeting second, she caught something in his expression that didn’t fit. It wasn’t fear or annoyance. It looked a lot like guilt.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you two—”

“Stop.” The word left her lips before she could think. Enid straightened, forcing her voice to sound steady. “Nothing was going on. Wednesday wanted me to check something, and I leaned a little too close.”

Ajax frowned, his brow pulling together. “On her neck?”

Enid froze for a split second. “Yes. Wednesday wanted to know if there was a way to make herself scentless, so she made some weird potion and used me as her lab rat.” The lie came out smooth, almost too natural. Each word felt heavy, like it was pulling her down inch by inch.

Ajax seemed to buy it, or maybe he just wanted to. He nodded slowly, still catching his breath. “That actually sounds like something Wednesday would do. So did it work?”

Hell no.

“I think so,” Enid said, forcing a small, easy smile. “I couldn’t smell anything on her. You know how sensitive werewolf noses are.”

“True,” he said with a soft laugh, the tension easing as he reached for her hand. She let him pull her up and brushed the dirt from her skirt.

“So listen, Enid, I wanted to—”

“Oh crap, I have to go. I’m late for Botany.” The excuse tumbled out before he could finish. Relief mixed with guilt in her chest as she forced a bright smile. “I’ll see you later, Ajax.”

“Enid, wait!” he called, but she was already moving.

Her boots hit the stone path hard as she ran across campus, the echo of each step keeping pace with her heartbeat. The wind caught her hair, whipping strands into her face, but she didn’t slow. Everything felt sharper than usual. The rustle of leaves brushed against her ears, the scent of rain hung in the air, and faint voices drifted from a distance. It was all too much, too loud, too fast.

She tried to steady her breathing, pushing the wolfish adrenaline back under control, though it hummed stubbornly beneath her skin. That’s when a hand shot out and caught her arm, yanking her to a halt. Instinct flared bright and violent. Her claws flexed, teeth bared, and a low growl escaped her throat before she realized who it was.

Bruno stood in front of her, calm as ever, his grip firm but not rough. The surprise of his touch cut through the haze and grounded her. Her pulse still raced, but the warmth of his hands eased some of the tension, the wolf inside her receding slightly.

“Careful with those claws,” he said, easing her arms down to her sides. “You could poke someone’s eye out.” His voice was even, almost gentle, and the soft teasing made a small, shaky laugh escape her.

“Sorry I’m late for class, and…” she trailed off, trying to sound casual, though her heartbeat still thundered in her ears.

“Yeah, I know. I was just coming from the bathroom.” Bruno shrugged and reached for her hand. “C’mon, I’ll walk you. Maybe afterwards we could hang out around the fields.”

Her stomach fluttered, a warmth spreading across her cheeks. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, the embarrassment of earlier incidents with Wednesday still prickling in her mind, before letting him lead her. “Oh, really? That would be nice. Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Cool. Then after class, we’ll get a blanket and head up there.” He smiled in that easy, charming way that always made her heart skip.

As they walked, the rhythm of their steps beside each other grounded her further. The campus still buzzed with distant voices, leaves rustled around them, and the faint smell of rain lingered, but it no longer felt overwhelming. For the first time in minutes, Enid felt her wolf side settle completely, leaving only her, human and nervous, with a small smile tugging at her lips.

She smiled wider at the thought, her fingers curling a little tighter around his hand. Bruno really was a great guy. With him, everything felt simple in a way she had not realized she needed. He was kind and patient, someone she could talk to without measuring every word. Around him, the noise in her head quieted. She could just exist—no pressure, no claws, no sharp edges. It felt nice, almost normal.

Except when he mentioned Wednesday. Then that calm always seemed to crack, just a little, like a shadow brushing against the edge of her mind.

It was hard to explain, but after finally being able to wolf out, Enid felt like a real werewolf. The strength, the clarity, the control, it had changed everything. She could feel the steady beat of her pulse in her wrists and the subtle warmth in her chest that reminded her she was alive in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

Still, it did not explain the strange outbursts she had been having lately, especially when it came to Ajax and her best friend’s new acquaintance. The smile faded from her lips, replaced by a small frown as Bruno let go of her hand when they reached the classroom door. The cool air of the hallway followed her inside, brushing against her skin as she made her way toward the front.

The professor was not pleased with her tardiness but only reminded her to take a seat. It was still the second week of school, he said, and she nodded quickly, sliding into her chair. She felt the stiff fabric of her uniform under her fingertips and heard the soft scrape of notebooks opening around her.

Time seemed to stretch. The droning lecture about plants and herbs made her eyelids grow heavy, and the faint, earthy smell of the classroom terrarium drifted to her nose. Botany was not her favorite subject, but her mom had insisted she take it this year. She had said it was important for a werewolf to understand the plants that could harm her, both physically and psychologically.

Today’s lecture was on wolfsbane, a plant that could kill her kind in minutes. She should have been paying close attention, absorbing every detail, but her thoughts kept slipping away. They drifted to other people, particularly Ajax.

Damn, she had been the worst after pulling that stunt…

Enid’s nose scrunched as the memory came back, the sharp sting of guilt making her stomach twist. She had brushed off his concern and bolted the moment she saw an opening. She really had been awful to him since returning to Nevermore.

He and Wednesday…

The wolf inside her stirred uneasily. She straightened in her seat, gripping the edge of the desk as thoughts of Wednesday filled her mind, uninvited and relentless.

No, don’t think about that! It won’t happen again, get it together, Enid!

Despite the warning she gave herself, she knew it was a lie. The memory burned too vividly. Just earlier in the tower, she had been seconds away from biting Wednesday again. And the worst part was not that she had wanted to, but that Wednesday had let her.

Wednesday had wanted her to.

That thought made Enid’s stomach twist and her chest ache in equal measure.

What’s wrong with her?

DING, DING, DING!

The sudden clang of the bell snapped her out of the spiral. Her heart jumped as she blinked rapidly, trying to drag her focus back to the present. Footsteps approached, steady and familiar, and she looked up into Bruno’s dark eyes. He tilted his head slightly, a crooked smile pulling at his lips.

“The fields, remember?” he said softly.

Enid’s heart fluttered despite herself. She rose from her seat, forcing a bright smile.

“Right. Let’s go.”

She slipped her hand into his again. On the outside, she looked like any other girl heading off with her boyfriend. Inside, her chest felt tight, weighed down by thoughts she could not shake and the lingering exhaustion of managing her instincts and emotions all morning.

Bruno held a blanket draped over his arm as the two of them walked across the familiar grassy field near the academy. Enid closed her eyes for a moment, letting the wind kiss her pale cheeks and tug at her short hair. Holding his hand reminded her that she was not alone, and the soft warmth of his fingers helped her calm down the further they walked.

When he stopped, her head bumped lightly against his shoulder. She lifted her hand to wrap around his bicep, and Bruno looked down at her with that goofy grin she liked. His eyes crinkled in that boyish way that always made her heart flutter, and when he bent down to press a quick kiss to her forehead, a rush of warmth spread through her chest.

“I need you to let go so I can put this down, Enid,” he said gently.

“Oh, sorry!” she said quickly, pulling back, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Don’t be,” he chuckled, setting the blanket down before sitting on top of it.

Enid knelt onto the blanket, letting herself settle a little closer to him. She felt the familiar tension in her chest, the pull of attraction mingling with something soft and comforting. Bruno lay back, still smiling, and for a moment, she felt the urge to kiss him, to give in to the electricity sparking between them. Instead of rushing, she let her movement be subtle. She edged closer, holding his gaze, hoping he would notice the intention in her eyes.

He did. When their lips met, warm and chapped but soft, she let out a small sigh and gave herself over to the moment. Her hands wound around his neck as her body pressed closer, her instincts and emotions guiding her without thought. They parted only briefly before he leaned back in, matching her need, and their kisses deepened. Enid shifted until she was on top of his flatter, stiffer chest, her fingers tangling in his hair, her mind clearing of everything else, focused entirely on the connection between them.

Then Bruno’s face turned away, breaking the spell.

Enid blinked in surprise, frustration bubbling up and twisting her lips into a pout.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“You’re trying to distract yourself,” he said seriously, meeting her eyes. “I could feel it even in the kiss, Enid.”

“What? No, I wasn’t!” she gasped, sliding back to sit cross-legged on the blanket.

“You were,” he said with a sigh, sitting up as well. “I wanted to come here to talk, not make out. Something happened with you and your roommate after you dragged her out of the quads. I can see it on your face.”

Enid groaned and crossed her arms, irritation and guilt twisting together. “Ugh, seriously, are we really talking about her again? This isn’t my fault. She’s been avoiding me!”

“I know. You’ve told me that several times,” Bruno said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But whatever is happening is affecting you. I don’t like seeing you force yourself to hang out with the pack when you clearly want to be with Addams and do whatever you two do together.”

Enid flinched at his words because they were painfully true. She cared for the pack, but Wednesday… there was something about her that mattered more. Wednesday was her first real friend besides Yoko. She could be selfish and reckless, sure, but she had tried, in her own way, to be better for Enid. She saw her, really saw her, even when Enid acted impulsively or made mistakes. That rare effort, that acknowledgment, was exactly what Enid had been craving from someone.

“—I need to go,” Enid murmured, her voice small, and she rose abruptly. The pain in Bruno’s eyes was too much, a mirror to her own guilt and confusion. She bolted across the field, legs pumping as the wind whipped her hair across her face, tugging at her uniform and making her cheeks sting with cold. Her heart thudded in her chest, each beat echoing the turmoil inside her.

She did not know what to do. Everything felt tangled and impossible. She was caught between her loyalty to the pack, the steady comfort and care Bruno offered, and the undeniable pull she could not ignore toward Wednesday. Her chest tightened with each thought of her roommate, memories both frustrating and exhilarating twisting together in her mind.

The grass beneath her feet felt soft and familiar, yet it did nothing to calm her racing heart. Each step carried her farther from Bruno, but also farther from the questions she could not answer. She wanted to stay, to feel the simple warmth of his presence, but her wolf instincts, her emotions, and the bond she shared with Wednesday yanked her in another direction, leaving her chest heavy and her mind in shambles.

She slowed slightly as she neared the edge of the campus, trying to steady her breath. The wind cut through her blazer, and the distant hum of other students made her feel both balanced and painfully aware of her own turmoil. She clenched her fists at her sides, wishing for clarity, for some way to untangle the knot of her feelings, but it eluded her.

Enid’s steps faltered, but she forced herself onward. She had no answers, no easy choices, only the relentless pull of all the parts of her life moving in different directions at once.

It was all just so damn confusing!

By the time Enid made it back to Ophelia Hall, she was completely drained. Her legs ached, her chest still pounded, and her mind felt scattered. She opened her door and froze for a moment. Wednesday was nowhere to be seen. A frown tugged at her lips as she stepped further into the room, only to stop when she heard a faint rustling coming from Wednesday’s desk.

“Thing, are you stuck in there? Oh my gosh, did Wednesday lock you in her drawer?” Panic edged her voice as she hurried over and gently freed the dismembered hand.

Thing shook himself out, clearly annoyed after being trapped for some time. Enid’s worry flared. Wednesday’s experiments sometimes went too far, and Thing often bore the brunt.

“Are you okay?” she asked, brushing him off as best she could.

Thing tapped the desk, signing sharply. "I’d be fine if Wednesday hadn’t shoved me in there… Did you just get back?" Enid read him immediately.

“Yeah, a few minutes ago,” she replied, a small grin tugging at her tired face. “Hey, do you want me to do your nails? You can tell me all about whatever spat you had with Wednesday while I give you a full treatment.”

Thing’s little body stiffened at first, then relaxed as the idea sank in. He signed eagerly.

“Only if you soak me too!”

“Of course,” Enid laughed, tossing her blazer onto the bed. “You always get the full treatment with me.”

The hand jumped off the desk and scuttled over to her bed, already selecting the nail polish he wanted her to use. Enid found it both amusing and endearing that he enjoyed these spa treatments. If Wednesday wouldn’t appreciate proper care, at least Thing did, and that made their bond feel more genuine.

“Oh, indigo. Good choice,” she said, approving his pick as she gathered the vial of polish, her nail filer, the bowl of hot water, and the clippers.

Thing tapped her bed in rapid beats, signing the details of why he had been stuck in the cramped drawer. Enid’s brow furrowed slightly as she processed it, shaking her head at how easily Wednesday could be triggered.

“Wow,” she said, sighing. “You said one thing about the case, and she reacted like that? This case must really be a tricky one if it's frustrating her that much.” She settled across from him on the bed, letting her hands hover over his, ready to begin. 

Enid dipped Thing’s fingers carefully into the warm water, watching him wiggle them slightly with an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. She hummed softly, a habit she’d developed when focusing, as she began gently filing each tiny nail. Thing tapped out small beats, narrating bits of what had happened earlier, and she listened with half her attention, letting the warmth of the moment settle her racing mind.

Even as she worked, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting. Wednesday. The way she had made Enid feel both exhilarated and guilty earlier in the day, the way she could stir something primal in her that no one else could. She tried to push it aside, to focus on Thing’s little presence, but the pull was insistent.

“You know,” Enid said softly, looking at Thing with a small smile, “you really take this whole nail spa thing seriously. I think you like it more than Wednesday ever would.”

Thing tapped her hand twice, as if to agree, then pointed toward the polish she was about to apply, signaling his preference. Enid laughed a little, appreciating the tiny gestures, the way he trusted her completely.

She took the brush, carefully painting each nail with indigo polish, her hands steady, though her mind kept drifting back to her roommate. The guilt from earlier, the confusion over her own actions, churned quietly in her chest, tugging at her focus.

When she finished the second coat an hour later, Thing wiggled his fingers, clearly pleased, and Enid couldn’t help but grin. It felt like a small victory, a calm, comforting moment of connection in a world that often felt too chaotic.

She leaned back slightly, glancing at him. “There. All done. How’s that?”

Thing tapped her hand quickly, signing a string of appreciative gestures. Enid laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, enjoying the brief calm. 

Her laughter ended abruptly when the door to her room swung open. Wednesday Addams stepped inside, as composed and unbothered as ever, but the air seemed to shift instantly. Enid’s chest tightened. Thing froze mid-motion, his tiny body stiffening before he leapt off the bed.

Wednesday’s dark eyes followed him, narrowing slightly, and she lifted him with precise control. “What did you tell her?” she asked, voice calm but carrying that unmistakable edge that made Enid tense.

Thing wiggled, clearly uncomfortable, and Enid felt a pang of guilt. Wednesday held him just long enough to make the point, testing both of them.

“Thing, answer me.”

“All he said was that you haven’t found any leads for the new case,” Enid said quickly, stepping forward. Wednesday’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and assessing.

“I have found leads,” Wednesday said, her voice calm, almost detached. “Not the ones I want, but they exist.” She set Thing carefully on the desk and returned her attention to her work.

“I assumed you would be spending time with your pack after classes,” she added, her tone sharp enough to make Enid flinch without raising her voice.

“I was well, just with Bruno,” Enid admitted, hesitating. “But things didn’t go how I wanted them to.”

A faint shadow crossed Wednesday’s face. “Shall I nail-gun his heart?” she asked, in a serious manner, her dark eyes unblinking.

“Huh? No! That’s… he just wanted to talk about something,” Enid stammered, feeling the warmth creep up her cheeks. 

That involved you…

Wednesday’s dark eyes flicked to her, unblinking. “Did he now,” she said evenly, her tone calm but sharp, like a knife sliding against paper. 

“Yeah. It’s… complicated,” Enid said, looking away. She could feel the weight of the conversation in her chest.

“Enid, what did you tell Ajax after he—” Wednesday paused, glancing away for a moment as if weighing how much to press. Her silence hung in the room, precise and heavy, demanding honesty without raising her voice.

“Nothing,” Enid murmured, crossing her arms. “Just that you wanted to test a potion. I’m really sorry about what happened before he showed up.” The admission felt small, fragile, but she had to say it.

Wednesday’s gaze snapped back to her, sharp, unwavering, piercing through the haze of Enid’s guilt. “Do not apologize for your nature. If the urge to bite arises, ask me. I would not object to controlled pain.”

Enid swallowed hard. Relief, apprehension, and a strange warmth all tangled in her chest. Wednesday’s words were intimidating, yes, but beneath them was a precise care that made her feel… seen.

“Ugh, I really had such a bad day, Wednesday…” she admitted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. Frustration bubbled up, her jaw aching as her teeth grew sharper. Her pulse thudded against her ribs, the wolf inside her stirring with the tension she couldn’t fully contain. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I’ve just been the worst—to you, Ajax, even Bruno. I hate feeling like this.”

Wednesday tilted her head, eyes cool and steady. “The worst?” she echoed. “Elaborate.”

Enid let out a shaky breath. “Like I know I need to talk to them—I know that—but I can’t. I can’t, and it’s making things worse and more stressful, and I don’t know how to fix any of it, and I just—”

“If you know what you need to do,” Wednesday interrupted, tone even, “then do it. It’s that simple.”

Enid groaned, voice breaking. “You just don’t get it, I—”

Wednesday’s expression remained unreadable, her dark eyes fixed on Enid with that same unsettling calm. “Emotions are usually something I avoid scrutinizing,” she said flatly. “But if you must…”

Without another word, she reached for Enid’s wrist and guided the emotional werewolf toward her own bed, its coverlet smooth and precisely tucked. Her movements were steady, deliberate, and unhurried, as though she were performing a necessary task rather than offering comfort. She pressed lightly on Enid’s shoulder until she settled onto the edge of the mattress.

“Whoa—what are you—” Enid started, her wolf instincts bristling at the sudden closeness.

“I am assessing that you need to bite something again to relieve your pain,” Wednesday said, perfectly deadpan. She shrugged off her blazer and loosened her tie with clinical precision, not sparing a glance at Enid. The faint scent of her perfume mingled with the sharper tang of metal from her desk, making Enid’s pulse stutter.

“Wait, let me do that!” Enid blurted, hands darting forward. She froze under Wednesday’s unwavering gaze. “S-sorry… I just like doing that.”

What the hell was she even saying? 

Her wolf growled softly under the surface, reacting to the tension between them. Wednesday’s dark eyes bore into her, but there was a strange safety in the control, an odd reassurance that made Enid hesitate before pulling back.

Wednesday stayed perfectly still, a silent figure, watching Enid with that unshakable presence. Enid’s heart thudded as her fingers found Wednesday’s tie, tugging her closer until their knees brushed. Each small contact sent sparks through her nerves. Her wolf stirred beneath the surface, teeth shifting, a constant reminder of the animal coiled inside her. The one she fought to keep in check.

When Wednesday climbed onto her, bracketing her legs, Enid felt the warmth of her body, the subtle scent, and steady pulse beneath her fingertips. Carefully, she moved her hands to the top button of Wednesday’s shirt collar, hesitating for a heartbeat. She had never acted so intimate, so loaded with trust. Slowly, deliberately, she unfastened the button. The fabric loosened beneath her fingers, revealing more of the pale, cool skin beneath. Every inch felt electric, each heartbeat reminding her of the delicate balance between control and instinct.

Her nose brushed the skin at the crook of Wednesday’s neck. Her breath hitched, and the fading mark tugged insistently at her wolf, whispering for release. Part of her wanted to bite, to sink her teeth in and let the tension vanish, but another thought anchored her. She reminded herself to move cautiously, to respect the trust and comfort that Wednesday offered without hesitation.

“Go on,” Wednesday said, her tone precise, unwavering, and measured.

Enid’s canines slid forward, small and sharp, a warning of her shifting state. Her teeth ached like they were ready to erupt, the urge building until she could no longer ignore it. She pressed her lips to Wednesday’s cool skin, grounding herself in the familiar chill before letting her fangs graze gently. The light bite eased some of the tension that had been coiled in her chest all day, and the relief made her exhale. She wrapped her arms around Wednesday’s back, pulling her closer as she began to lick and nibble with careful attention.

The rapid pulse beneath her fingertips and against her chest helped quiet the chaos in her mind. Warmth settled in slowly, easing her nerves, and her teeth dulled in response. Even so, the pull lingered. Her wolf still urged her forward, restless and insistent, but she grounded herself in the steady trust of Wednesday’s presence. She knew she was allowed this. She knew she was safe here.

After one last careful lick, Enid rested her forehead against Wednesday’s shoulder, shifting so that she lay beside her, head tucked underneath. It felt natural, inevitable even, and the hands threading through her hair were the final reassurance she needed. Slowly, she let herself breathe, let the tension slip from her shoulders, and allowed the calm of the moment to carry her toward sleep.

Chapter Text

Morning came too fast.

For a moment, Enid lay still, caught between warmth and memory. The sheets smelled faintly of cedar and something sharper she couldn’t quite name. Her mind felt hazy, drifting somewhere between what had happened last night and what might have been a dream. Then the other side of the bed registered—cool and neatly made.

Right. Wednesday was already up. Of course, she was.

A quiet hum of movement filled the room, the shuffle of papers and the soft scratch of a pen. Enid turned her head and found Wednesday seated at her desk, posture perfect, as if she hadn’t spent half the night letting Enid curl up against her shoulder. The contrast hit her hard, leaving a tight feeling in her chest.

She watched Wednesday for a moment, noting the calm precision in her movements—the faint furrow between her brows, the way sunlight glinted off the edge of her ink bottle. Everything was so ordinary that it almost wiped away the memory of warmth, and the teeth barely held back. Almost.

Then suddenly it hit her. Enid looked down, gasping in horror when she realized she was still in her uniform. Her cheeks burned as she scrambled off Wednesday’s bed, making the situation even more awkward. Wednesday seemed completely absorbed in her papers, fingers tracing neat lines across the page, not acknowledging that Enid had been curled against her just moments before.

Enid crossed to her side of the room and spotted her phone charging. Dozens of notifications lit up the screen. “Oh crap, did I really sleep all night?” she muttered.

Wednesday glanced up briefly, one brow raised, voice flat. “Yes. And judging by the state of your hair, you appear exactly as exhausted as you are.”

Enid groaned and rubbed her face. “Ugh, I can’t believe I fell asleep like that. On you, no less.”

Wednesday’s shoulders twitched ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, as if reacting to the memory, though she said nothing. Her attention returned to the papers, expression unreadable, but Enid caught the faintest shift in the space she had left behind, a trace of warmth that made her chest tighten despite herself.

“S-Sorry that happened again… I don’t understand why my teeth keep shifting like that,” Enid whispered, feeling guilty for using her friend for something so trivial.

“You are newly wolfed out,” Wednesday said, still focused on the case files rather than Enid. “You are still adjusting to the added traits.”

“Yeah, but it’s been months, and it only happens when I get frustrated or angry,” Enid murmured, crossing her arms. “Maybe this is a sign that Agnes shouldn’t be near you?”

“That is one possibility,” Wednesday countered, her tone flat, almost daring. “Or you need to learn control. If your wolf acts out, you risk harming others. Use whatever outlet necessary, just make sure it does not escalate.”

Enid bit her lip, feeling both reassured and lightly chastised, while Wednesday returned to her work as if nothing had happened, leaving the comfort unspoken yet lingering quietly in the room.

“Are you saying you would… be that outlet? Even if I get more aggressive?” Enid asked, her nails flexing against the covers of her colorful bed, a flutter of excitement bubbling in her stomach.

Wednesday did not look up. Her expression remained perfectly neutral, her eyes scanning the papers in front of her. “I am not making any promises,” she said evenly. “You will be responsible for your own behavior. Any consequences that follow are yours to manage.”

Enid felt her cheeks heat, but she could not stop the small smile tugging at her lips. Wednesday’s calm, measured tone did nothing to extinguish the rush of thrill that had surged through her.

“Guess it’s a good thing I grew out of my phobia of blood, and you enjoy torture then,” Enid quipped, noticing the sudden stillness from her roommate.

Wednesday’s pen paused mid-sentence, her shoulders stiffening ever so slightly. She did not look up. “I do not enjoy torture. I find the study of pain and its effects… informative,” she said uniformly, her voice prosaic, though the subtle shift in her posture betrayed the faintest awareness of Enid’s teasing.

Enid tilted her head, pretending to ponder. “Informative, huh? Sounds like code for enjoying it just a little.”

Wednesday’s pen resumed its motion, but her shoulders relaxed only imperceptibly. Her face remained unreadable, yet the faint tremble at the corner of her mouth did not escape Enid’s notice.

The quiet power she seemed to hold over Wednesday made Enid’s wolf flare. She did not know why it exhilarated her, but it did. Whether through teasing remarks or small provocations, she could get a rise out of her roommate, and she liked it. Since meeting the Addams girl, she had learned how much fun mischief could be and how satisfying it was to see Wednesday react, even if only a little.

“Relax, Wednesday. Your little secret is safe with me,” Enid said with a mischievous grin as she headed for the bathroom. “What are friends for if not embarrassing each other a little?”

She let the words hang for a moment, savoring the reaction she imagined on Wednesday’s face, before stepping away. The quiet of the hallway followed her, leaving just enough space for whatever came next.

It was official. Today was the day she was going to kill Wednesday Addams. No, seriously. Enid couldn’t believe her roomie could be this clueless about dorm culture. She had put that scrunchy on the doorknob for a reason, and it was clearly because a boy was in their room. The pure shock on her face when Wednesday barged in, completely unbothered, frustrated Enid to no end.

“Wednesday!?”

What made matters worse, she and Bruno tumbled off the bed the moment Wednesday made full eye contact with them. Heat flushed her entire face as she hurried to her feet, her patience already at its limit when it came to goth antics and mannerisms.

“Wednesday, didn’t you see the scrunchie on the door? That’s kind of universal roomie code for do not disturb,” Enid snapped.

Wednesday, ever the enigma, merely arched an eyebrow and deadpanned, “I fail to see how a hair accessory dictates my actions.”

Before either of them could argue further, a clatter came from Wednesday’s side of the room. Startled by the noise, both girls turned toward it and saw the bow to the raven’s cello lying on the floor. Dread knotted in Enid’s stomach. Wednesday’s calm, detached glance did nothing to ease it, and when Agnes appeared with that infuriating, smug smile, Enid’s apprehension flared into pure, unrestrained rage.

“How long were you in here?” Enid shouted, eyes wide, hands flexing.

“Oh, me?” Agnes said, pointing to herself with mock innocence. “I was here between all the…” She made a kissing sound followed by a subtle moan. “Scarred me for life, if I do say so myself,” she added with a smug smile.

That did it. “Get out of my room, you little creep!” Enid snarled, claws unsheathing.

“Hmm, if I’m being honest, it was rather tame compared to what else I saw in here,” Agnes said, her eyes flicking toward Wednesday. The mark on Wednesday’s neck, faded but still visible, made Enid’s blood boil.

“Y-you are so dead!” Enid yelled, lifting her claws, ready to strike, until Bruno grabbed her and pulled her back.

“Hey, calm down. Let’s go, Enid,” he whispered, but his sweet voice did nothing to soothe her this time.

What else does that freak know?

With one last glare at Agnes, Enid let Bruno lead her out of the room, her anger still burning as they stepped outside Ophelia Hall. She kept her mouth shut the entire way to where the rest of the pack was waiting. Her teeth were already shifting, and her wolf rattled in the cage of her soul. It was bad enough that she did not have a real outlet right now, and the very thing she needed was also the cause of her latest mood swing.

“Okay, you’ve been quiet for a while. You gonna tell me what that was all about or not?” Bruno asked, trying to sound supportive.

Enid just growled, though her teeth shifted back to normal. “I just… that creep is such a pain, and she had to be the one Wednesday chose to help with this stupid case.”

“So why don’t you just, I don’t know, confront her about the case?” Bruno asked, hands in his pockets.

“You don’t think I tried. Wednesday is so stubborn. She never listens to anyone, not even me,” she said, sulking, staring ahead. Her anger softened into disappointment. “I really thought we got closer after last year, but now I feel like I’m just a bother.”

Bruno looked genuinely conflicted. Before he could say anything, Enid froze. Ajax was in the quads with Bianca, both deep in conversation, Bianca looking dejected. At times like these, Enid wished Yoko had not transferred back to Kyoto. She needed her only other best friend to talk to, especially when she felt lonelier than ever.

“Enid, hey!” Ajax called out, making her flinch. She grabbed Bruno’s arm and pulled him away from where they were heading.

“What’s wrong?” Bruno whispered, leaning closer.

“I just… I really don’t want to be here right now,” Enid admitted, pressing her head against his chest.

It wasn’t as soft as Wednesday’s, and his heartbeat was louder and less steady than she expected. The difference made her nose itch. Even his scent was sharp and unfamiliar, offering no comfort. Nothing about Bruno calmed her. If anything, it made her body buzz with a restless energy. Her head started pounding. Her teeth shifted slightly, sharper than before, and a familiar, low growl rumbled in her chest.

She needed to get out of here before it got worse.

Lifting her head, she met Bruno’s dark eyes. For a fleeting moment, she wished she could sink into them like people in the romance novels did. Instead, panic coiled tighter in her chest. She wanted to run, to vanish before the beast inside her did something irreversible. Every sound felt sharper, every movement slower, the world tilting in a haze.

“Enid?” Bruno’s voice cut through the chaos, distant and muffled, just before darkness swallowed her.

When Enid reopened her eyes, she realized she was in the school infirmary at night. The faint smell of antiseptic mixed with something musky and familiar made her nose twitch. A red-haired woman sat beside her cot, absorbed in a book about Mozart. Her leopard-print shirt and casual demeanor were a little tacky, but her presence was familiar and grounding.

“Professor Capri?” Enid said, her voice tight, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“You don’t need to worry about the nurse. I told her I would handle this,” Isadora Capri said calmly. Her scent was faintly floral, strangely soothing. “Those teeth of yours are going to be a problem, though. Usually, it is just the claws that are retractable.”

“…Dammit,” Enid groaned, tasting the copper tang of frustration on her tongue. “…I don’t know why this keeps happening.”

Capri leaned closer, and Enid felt the warmth radiate from her. “It’s okay. You’re still getting used to shifting, but it should only happen during a full moon. Right now, your wolf seems overly emotional.”

Enid’s gaze dropped to her hands, flexing unconsciously. “Why, though? I feel like I’m way more connected to her than the other students are to theirs, and I’m a late bloomer.” Her sigh sounded loud in her own ears.

“A late bloomer?” Capri repeated, her brows furrowing slightly. “Enid, when exactly did you first wolf out?”

“Huh? I think it was during a Bloodmoon. Why?” Enid asked, confusion twisting her stomach as she noticed Capri’s sudden pale face.

The doors to the infirmary swung open with a sharp creak. Wednesday entered first, silent as always, the faint rustle of her clothes audible in the quiet room. Agnes followed, moving with her usual dramatic flair. Both approached Enid’s cot.

“Enid, are you okay? What happened?” Wednesday asked, her voice steady, calm, and precise. Enid could feel the intensity of her gaze as it swept over her, sharp and unyielding.

“Wednesday?! Weren’t you—why are you here?” Enid said, heat rising in her cheeks as tension coiled in her chest.

“The Gorgon informed me that you fainted near the quads, so I came to see if you were still alive,” Wednesday said bluntly. Each word seemed measured, but Enid could sense the subtle undercurrent of concern in her dark eyes.

“Oh, this is rich. The puppy fainted? Really?” Agnes said, her voice dripping with mockery. 

“Shut up, you little psycho!” Enid hissed, her teeth shifting slightly, claws flexing under her sleeves. The pulse in her veins throbbed insistently, her wolf stirring, urging her to lash out. She forced herself to stay seated, swallowing back a growl that vibrated deep in her chest, even as a strange thrill curled along her nerves.

“Professor Capri, could you bring Agnes back to her dorm room? I need to talk to Enid,” Wednesday said, her tone calm but sharp. “Alone.”

Capri arched a brow, amusement flickering across her face. “Alone, hm? You do realize how suspicious that sounds coming from you, Miss Addams.” She gave a faint chuckle and gestured toward Agnes. 

Wednesday’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers, unflinching. “It is not a suggestion. It is a request that will be honored.”

Capri leaned back slightly, letting a dramatic sigh escape. “Miss Addams, your confidence is… intimidating. Very well. If you insist.” She rose from her chair, her gaze flicking briefly to Enid, who had been watching quietly. Capri’s hand found Agnes’s elbow and guided her toward the door, firm but controlled. “Do try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” she added, the edge of amusement still in her voice, before stepping out.

Once the room was empty, silence settled heavily in the air. Enid stayed perfectly still as Wednesday stepped closer, every movement measured and deliberate. The calm precision in her demeanor only made Enid’s pulse quicken. Without a word, Wednesday climbed onto the cot beside her and slipped off her black jacket, the pale line of her throat catching the light. Then, with quiet certainty, she reached out, her hand finding the back of Enid’s neck, and guided her forward until her forehead rested against the smooth skin beneath her jaw.

Enid’s senses screamed. Her heart pounded in her chest, the metallic tang of fear sharp on her tongue. The rapid thrum of blood in her ears drowned out every thought. The faint chill of Wednesday’s skin against her lips made her claws twitch beneath her sleeves. Instinct surged, and before she could stop herself, her canines sank into the crook of Wednesday’s neck, hard. A growl tore from deep within, raw and desperate. The sting and the taste of blood sent a rush of panic and strange intoxication through her. For a heartbeat, thought and restraint disappeared, leaving only the pulse of her wolf and the feel of Wednesday’s skin beneath her mouth.

She licked the wound, tasting human blood for the first time. It was strange to think she had once mocked Yoko for this, but now she understood, and it was not just the act that rattled her. Her teeth grazed lightly down to Wednesday’s collarbone, careful this time, as a low, unmistakable sound escaped the girl above her. It was a moan, and it was not one of pain.

Enid pulled back, her teeth shrinking to normal as logic crept back into her mind. Heavy breaths filled the room. Hers were uneven, Wednesday’s were steady but sharp. Both girls looked equally mortified by what had just happened.

“We do not speak of this. Ever.” Wednesday said flatly.

“What, that bloodplay makes you moan?” Enid blurted before instantly regretting it. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean—ugh, why is this happening?”

“You can process your shame later. Help me dress this wound,” Wednesday replied, already pulling away as Enid scrambled to the infirmary closet for gauze and disinfectant.

When she turned back, Enid froze. Wednesday’s shirt collar had slipped just enough to reveal the bite — four sharp, perfect fang marks against her pale skin. Her heart lurched, and she nearly dropped everything in her hands. The tension in the air was unbearable; she wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Luckily, the mark wasn’t magical or like the ones in those inaccurate werewolf romance novels that normies loved to read, but it was real. And it was all her doing.

“You are going to have to take off your shirt,” she muttered.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow but complied without hesitation, making Enid’s face flush scarlet as she nearly toppled off the cot again.

The nurses were definitely going to kill them for making a mess in here.

Enid fumbled with the gauze and disinfectant, her hands shaking as she tried to focus. Her mind kept drifting back to the bite, to the way it had tasted, to the way Wednesday had looked just before she bit. She hoped the marks would fade like the others eventually did, but a small, stubborn part of her knew it would take time. The thought made her stomach twist.

“Okay…just…hold still,” Enid muttered, trying to sound firmer than she felt.

Wednesday leaned back slightly on the cot, her dark eyes half-lidded and unreadable. Her skin was still pale, tinged pink from the bite and the slight loss of blood, and for a moment, she looked less like the untouchable, perfectly composed girl everyone feared. Her shoulders slumped a little, and the faint tremor in her hand as she brushed her fingers across the cot caught Enid’s attention.

“You…don’t have to be perfect all the time, y’know,” Enid said softly, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and concern. She carefully dabbed disinfectant along the four puncture marks, trying to ignore the shiver that ran through her at the feel of Wednesday’s skin beneath her fingers.

Wednesday let out a quiet sigh, almost like a whisper. “I suppose even I am not immune to human frailty,” she said, her tone flat but tinged with something softer, something that made Enid’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t explain.

Enid’s hands lingered a moment longer over the marks, pressing the gauze gently, and she felt the steady pulse beneath her fingers. She couldn’t help but notice the way Wednesday’s dark eyelashes rested against her pale cheeks, how the slight flush in her skin seemed so delicate, so human. It made her want to protect her, even as her wolf growled quietly beneath the surface, reminding her of its presence.

“You’re going to be fine,” Enid said, more to herself than to Wednesday, as she carefully wrapped the last strip of gauze. “It’s just a surface wound. It’ll heal… eventually.”

Wednesday’s lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile, and for the first time this semester, Enid saw a crack in the girl’s armor, a subtle acknowledgment, almost like a quiet thank you.

“I really am sorry about this,” Enid whispered, staring down at her now normal nails.

“How many times must I tell you not to apologize?” Wednesday sighed, actually sighed. “Besides, if we are keeping score, I should be the one apologizing for nearly getting you killed every week.”

“That last time was Agnes’s fault, Wednesday, not yours.” Enid rolled her eyes, not noticing the way Wednesday’s gaze lingered on her.

Silence settled again, softer this time. The worst of the tension had faded, but something else remained between them, something unspoken and heavy.

Enid didn’t fully understand what was happening to her lately. The longer they were apart, the more that quiet ache settled in her chest. She didn’t want to admit it, but being without Wednesday made the world feel smaller. Emptier. She tried to fill that space with her pack, with noise, with anything, but it never lasted. It never felt enough.

And sitting here now, close enough to hear the faint rhythm of Wednesday’s pulse beneath the gauze, she realized how much she had missed simply being near her.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wednesday said finally, her tone as flat as ever, but her voice softer around the edges. “You’re making this feel far more sentimental than it should.”

Enid smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe you just don’t know what sentimental feels like.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “On the contrary. I simply choose not to indulge in it.”

Still, she didn’t move from the blonde, their breaths now more even as Wednesday leaned back slightly. Enid watched cautiously, ready to help, when the door swung open. Madam Abigail Benson of the infirmary marched in, her posture rigid, a clipboard clutched tightly in one hand, her silver eyes sharp behind her glasses.

“What on earth is going on here?” she demanded, voice sharp and commanding. “Where is Professor Capri? I was told by one of my nurses that she was overseeing the young pup.” Her gaze swept the room and then froze, taking in the blood-stained sheets, the faint smear of red on Enid’s teeth, and the bandages around Wednesday’s neck.

“Lucifer,” she muttered under her breath, straightening abruptly, exasperation evident in her tight lips. “Miss Addams, you will remain here. Do not speak or move unless I command you to do so. Miss Sinclair, return to your dorm immediately.”

Enid’s stomach tightened. She opened her mouth to explain, but the sharp lift of Benson’s brow froze her words. 

Acting on instinct, she muttered a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” and stepped backward toward the door. Madam Benson’s attention was momentarily fixed on Wednesday’s neck, and Enid slipped past her before the nurse could question them further.

Once outside, Enid exhaled sharply, her pulse still racing from adrenaline. Her teeth had returned to normal, but the memory of the last moments clung to her—a low hum of tension beneath her skin. At least she had escaped the immediate wrath of Madam Benson. Behind her, the faint echo of the nurse’s footsteps and the stiff shuffle of papers lingered in the air, but Enid was already moving, trying to plan her next step.

That plan hit a sudden wall when she collided with Professor Capri, who froze, eyes widening at the sight of Enid’s disheveled appearance.

“Sorry! I’m, uh, just heading back to my dorm!” Enid blurted, cheeks heating as she avoided Capri’s gaze, willing the chaos of the night to vanish on its own.

“Enid,” Capri said, voice tight with irritation, “where is Wednesday?”

Enid’s mind went blank. “Uh, she… um… cut herself with a scalpel, and the nurse caught her, so… she has to stay overnight?” The words spilled out, frantic and clumsy.

Capri pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Forget the dorms. You’ll spend the night in the lupin cages. I’ll keep watch. You need to calm down, Enid. If you don’t, your teeth will keep shifting every time your wolf decides to act out.”

Enid froze, ears burning. She was about to spend the night in the lupin cages—the place every werewolf student was sent during the full moon to contain their transformed selves.

“Are you for real? It’s not even a full moon tonight!” she argued in protest.

Capri’s glare did not waver. “Yes, Enid. The cages are where you belong tonight. Now move before this gets worse.”

Enid’s cheeks flamed hotter than ever. She wanted to disappear, melt into the floor, anything—but she didn’t. Her wolf growled low in protest, rattling in the cage of her soul. There was nothing to do but face the mortifying night ahead.

Her mind raced when she heard the door to her cage lock. Enid flinched at the metallic clang that echoed down the hall, sharp and too final. She glanced around her space—a dog bowl, a neatly kept cot, and a few colorful sheets she’d hung to make the dull cell feel less like a cage and more like her own. The faint smell of metal and disinfectant made her nose wrinkle. From somewhere down the corridor, Professor Capri’s voice carried, reminding her again about the silver-imbued bars that held the lupin cages together. Just the thought of brushing against them made her shiver.

At least she’d remembered her charger, though she hadn’t used her phone much since she and Bruno left the dorm. The real problem was that she’d forgotten her headphones. There was no way she was using her cat-eared pair outside her room. They were cute, sure, but way too nerdy for anyone in her pack to see.

Enid sighed and sat cross-legged on the red rug she’d laid down in her cage last week. The air felt cool against her skin, and the soft hum of the overhead lights filled the silence in an oddly heavy way. She tried to breathe slowly, to keep her heart from racing, but her nerves just wouldn’t settle.

Maybe some music will help? Something upbeat. Something happy…

Her phone buzzed against her leg, snapping her out of her thoughts. Enid blinked at the screen, then gasped softly.

“Oh, em gee, the new TWICE song just dropped,” she whispered, excitement cutting through the tension in her chest. The heaviness that had been pressing on her all day loosened as she unlocked her phone, fingers moving quickly to open Spotify. “Okay, yeah. This is exactly what I need right now.”

As the first bright notes filled the quiet room, the cold air didn’t feel quite so harsh anymore. The soft glow of her phone screen and the faint hum of the speaker made everything feel less empty. For the first time that evening, her shoulders began to relax.

To her surprise, the song was in English. That always made her feel a little closer to it, like she didn’t have to reach for meaning—it was already right there, warm and bright. The melody was pure happiness, full of that bubblegum energy that made her want to dance even when she was drained.

I know love
It is such a funny thing
A mystery allure
Gotta get to know you more
’Cause I, I can feel a real connection
A supernatural attraction-ah
I got the feels for you, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Enid laughed softly. “Yeah, I get that.” The lyrics hit closer than she expected. That rush of new feelings, the nervous excitement, the warmth that came from being near someone—it was all there.

It was then she realized this was a lot like her and Ajax when they first went out. Things had been so simple back then—easy, fun, uncomplicated. Well, until life had gotten in the way. He was such a sweet guy, always good to her, always patient. They’d had fun together, and even now, she didn’t hold a single bad feeling toward him.

Damn, she really needed to talk to him. He at least deserves that.

She sighed, the weight pressing down on her again. She knew she needed to reach out, but it all felt like too much—especially with everything else going on. Ajax would probably understand; he never held grudges. Still, the thought of talking to him made her stomach twist.

Her mind wandered through all the things piling up lately: Agnes, her struggles with controlling the wolf, and Bruno.

She didn’t even notice how long she’d been lost in her thoughts until the next song started playing. The shift in rhythm pulled her back, and she smiled faintly. She knew this one—High Tension by Mamamoo. She had always been a big fan, but this song had a different energy.

How my body leads me
With this feeling right now as is
I explore your universe feelin’ so fly
Whisper with this elated mood
Even when the moonlight hides its light, continuously
Dance with me

The beat was smoother, heavier. The feeling was more intense—almost intoxicating. Her thoughts drifted to Bruno.

Bruno was good to her—really good. He was a Fur too, which made everything easier. He understood her world and helped her feel like she belonged again. With him, she didn’t have to explain herself or hide the parts that made others uneasy. He was safe, steady, someone who let her just be without overthinking.

Except for when he brought up Wednesday.

Why did he always have to talk about her? It felt like he did every time they were alone, even when they were kissing, and she didn’t want to think about Wednesday when she was with him. That was the whole point—to stop thinking.

Then it hit her.

Oh.

Maybe he was right. Like, maybe she was using him as a distraction.

It had been so easy to fall into. He made it easy. But still… She liked him. At least she thought she did. She felt comfortable around him, safe. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

Her thoughts were still circling when the next song began. The familiar opening notes made her heart lift a little—Feel Special by TWICE.

There are certain days
Days when I suddenly feel all alone
When I feel like I don’t belong anywhere
And my head is hanging down low
Whenever those days come
You tell me how precious I am
All those words you say
Everything’s alright, from nobody to somebody
I turn into someone special

She smiled faintly. This one had always been special to her. It was upbeat, full of light, but she knew the story behind it—that it had been written to comfort one of the members during a hard time. That kind of honesty always touched her.

Comfort, she thought. Guess being comfortable is different from feeling comforted by someone.

She remembered how Bruno held her, how she tried to let his warmth sink in. However, it never worked. She couldn’t relax, couldn’t feel that sense of calm she needed.

The only person who ever made her feel that way was Wednesday.

She didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because they were best friends. That made sense. But still, shouldn’t she feel that same ease with the person she was dating?

Her mind drifted back to everything they had been through together—late nights, danger, near disasters. Perhaps it was simply shared trauma, something forged through shared survival. That had to be it.

Still, lately, they had felt more distant, the invisible thread between them thinning. Until the biting started.

It had been strange at first, but it brought them closer again. It was something only they shared, something that steadied her when nothing else could. For once, she had felt in control, whole. But then she had gone too far. She hadn’t meant to. She never wanted to hurt Wednesday. She just wanted to understand it, to manage it—to be stronger, steadier, the way she was supposed to be.

Her mom, Esther Sinclair's voice echoed in her mind, sharp and demanding as ever. Expectations. Control. Composure. She was supposed to have mastered it by now, to be the kind of wolf she should be.

Then the next song began, Engeki (Alt Vocal) by Mafuyu Asahina from 25-ji, Nightcord de.

The first few notes were soft, almost haunting. They filled the room like fog, settling deep in her chest. The lyrics carried a quiet ache, one that pressed against her ribs until her heartbeat felt too loud.

I was so delighted to see the pleased faces you made
That I played my role desperately—
So much that I had even forgotten to breathe

Enid’s throat tightened. Mafuyu’s voice was calm, but beneath it was something raw, something she recognized—the sound of someone trying too hard to be what everyone else wanted.

Her mom used to tell her that every wolf had a role to play in the pack. That Enid’s job was to be good, to behave, to fit neatly into the place carved out for her. It wasn’t cruel, just matter-of-fact. She had smiled and nodded, even when it felt like something inside her was shrinking each time she tried to wolf out before last year.

All I’ve ever wanted was just a certainty of my own self
Is this the price I have to pay for it? Oh, God
This all has been too much, it’s too much

The lyrics sank deeper than she wanted them to. She thought of her mom's recent letters, the ones that always began with “We’re proud of you” and ended with quiet reminders of what she still wasn’t doing right. She wondered if her mom would even recognize the girl she’d become at Nevermore — the one who still couldn’t control her shifts, who clung to someone as cold and chaotic as Wednesday Addams just to feel grounded.

The melody rose, fragile but unyielding, and Enid felt it echo the truth she never said aloud. She was tired of performing, tired of pretending her smile wasn’t cracking at the edges.

Now, since I am bringing this play of mine to its end
Open your eyes

The final note lingered like a held breath before the room fell silent again. Enid stayed still, her palm pressed to her chest.

For the first time all night, she didn’t reach for the next song. She just sat there, listening to the quiet, and tried to remember what it felt like to breathe without pretending.

There was just so much pressure, not just from her mom, but from everyone else as well. Enid didn’t know why any of this was happening to her. She thought she knew what being a werewolf, wolfing out, meant, but now. It was nothing but a never-ending nightmare, with no guidance or real support. 

A quiet sob escaped the young werewolf as she curled into a ball and tried to sleep. The last song still echoes within her mind while clinging to hope that everything will be better soon. 

But it didn’t get better…

The last few days passed in a blur for Enid, each one feeling like autopilot. Outwardly, she stayed upbeat, smiling and joking, but inside, it was the opposite. Her glare lingered on Agnes as she watched Wednesday quietly talk with the little stalker. It was enough to make the wolf inside her stir, claws twitching and teeth itching, sensing irritation it couldn’t ignore.

Without thinking, Enid pushed herself up and strode over, her boots striking the stone floor harder than she meant to. She only realized how tense she’d gotten when she caught the words she really didn’t want to hear. 

“Bull-pen? That’s the same word that’s on your investigation board, isn’t it? What are you planning now?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended, her wolf restless under her skin.

Wednesday’s dark eyes met hers, calm but cutting. “Nothing that concerns you.”

 “Oh, come on,” Enid shot back. “Everything you do concerns me—especially when it ends with someone almost dying. Again.”

Her gaze flicked toward Agnes, who looked far too pleased watching them argue. “And you—what, you’re her new partner in cryptic crimes now?”

“You don’t even enjoy these investigations,” Wednesday replied smoothly. “I’m simply allowing you the carefree year you claimed to want.”

Enid scoffed. “Yeah, but you missed the part where I wanted you there too.”

That landed. Just for a second, Wednesday’s eyes softened, almost imperceptibly, before she blinked it away.

Then Headmaster Dort’s voice echoed through the courtyard, announcing the annual governing camping trip scheduled for the weekend. Enid’s fists slowly unclenched, her nails leaving half-moon marks in her palms. She waited for the announcement to fade, her pulse still hammering.

Her eyes drifted, against her will, to Wednesday’s shirt collar. The crisp white fabric sat snug against her neck, concealing the faint mark just beneath. The gauze she’d worn all week was gone. Enid’s breath hitched. She tore her gaze away instantly, guilt and heat sparking in equal measure. The bite had already started to fade, but the memory had not, of her losing control, of Wednesday not flinching even once.

“So…” she started, forcing her tone to sound casual, “are you going on the camping trip? Could be nice. You know, sunlight, nature, other people.”

“I’m far too busy for that,” Wednesday said, dismissive as ever. “There’s an investigation that requires my attention.”

“With my assistance, obviously,” Agnes added quickly, like she’d been waiting for her cue.

For a heartbeat, Enid thought she saw something flicker in the girl’s smug expression—a trace of unease—but then Agnes spoke again.

“Wednesday, shouldn’t you be leaving soon? Sheriff Galpin’s funeral starts in an hour.”

Enid froze. “Wait—what? He’s dead?!”

Wednesday didn’t blink. “He passed away weeks ago.”

Agnes stepped in again, voice airy but calculated. “It’s also why she visited the Galpin boy last week—”

Wednesday’s gaze snapped to her, dark and glacial. “You’re saying too much. Leave. Before I make it three strikes.”

Agnes went pale, disappeared, and hurried off, her footsteps echoing down on the stone tiles.

Enid stood frozen, her mind catching on one name that shouldn’t have hit so hard: Tyler. Her stomach twisted, and the memory of him—his face, his voice, the chaos he left behind—sent a sharp tension through her shoulders.

“Enid.”

Her name, spoken in that calm, steady warning tone, made every nerve tighten. She realized other students had turned to watch, and Wednesday noticed too. Without a word, she reached out and took Enid’s wrist, firm but careful, guiding her toward the quieter edge of the courtyard.

Enid barely resisted, pulse hammering, claws twitching at her fingertips, caught between the urge to lash out and the instinct to follow.

“Why did you go see that murderer?!” she hissed, teeth lengthening slightly.

“It’s part of the case,” Wednesday said evenly, voice calm, almost clinical.

“I don’t believe you.” Enid pulled her hand free. “You wanted to see him, didn’t you? After everything he did… You still feel something?”

“Quite the opposite. Don’t assume something so ridiculous,” Wednesday replied, jaw tightening. “You need to control that wolf. I’m still recovering from your last… lapse.”

“You were the one who let it happen! Don’t blame me for this!” Enid shouted, raw and instinctive.

Wednesday’s gaze darkened. Her voice dropped, precise and cutting. “Control yourself, Enid. That wolf isn’t an excuse for poor judgment.”

The words landed like stones. Enid’s throat tightened. “You think I wanted that to happen?”

Wednesday said nothing, merely adjusted her collar and glanced toward the path leading out of the courtyard.

“I’ll be back later,” she said flatly. “There’s still evidence to collect at the funeral.”

She walked off, each step deliberate and final, leaving a silence that pressed on Enid’s chest. Enid stayed rooted, trying to steady her breathing, the words and weight of the moment twisting inside her. She wanted to follow, to demand answers—but the watchful eyes of the other students kept her still.

Her plans unraveled the instant Agnes chose to speak.

“My pup,” Agnes said softly, tilting her head, voice measured, “you have a talent for… making things complicated.”

Enid spun, a low growl rumbling. “You’re still here? What did you hear?”

Agnes’ eyes glinted, unblinking. “Enough to know something… happened with Wednesday. Perhaps it even left marks.”

“Shut up.”

A small, cold smile tugged at Agnes’ lips. “Imagine if those marks weren’t just… casual. What would Bruno think?”

Enid’s anger collapsed into shock. Agnes knew far more than she should. It was… unsettling.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Agnes said smoothly, shrugging as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Just observing. You’re very… territorial. Must be a wolf thing.”

“It is,” Enid muttered, jaw tight. “She was my real friend first.”

“You say that,” Agnes murmured, tilting her head, letting the words linger, “but it’s… interesting how personal things can become when wolves are involved.”

“What are you—” Enid began, but Agnes waved dismissively, boredom in her movements, and in an instant, she was gone.

In her place, Ajax stepped forward, concern etched across his face. “Enid? You okay?”

Her chest tightened, the urge to scream clawing at her throat. Then she caught sight of Bruno and the pack approaching, laughing and talking among themselves, and something inside her changed—a flicker of focus, a sliver of relief, a reason to move. She didn’t answer Ajax, didn’t give him a chance to speak. Instead, she slipped past him, following the pack, leaving the questions, the guilt, and the weight pressing down on her behind.

Chapter Text

A huff escaped Enid’s lips as her eyes scanned the clothes on her colorful bedsheets. It was only one day before the big camping trip, and she still had no idea what to wear. Everything in front of her didn’t look right, or even half as good as she’d imagined. Some clothes were missing, and others just didn’t look good in her eyes.

Her smartphone, which sat on her desk, was hooked up to her stereo as a familiar song trickled out in a calm but peppy beat. It was one of her favorite Vocaloid tracks, one she wasn’t afraid to play out loud. Although if anyone actually understood the lyrics, they’d realize the true and almost depressing feelings they carried beneath the upbeat melody.

Lines intersect
I dress up with all the things I love
That’s right, as always
This is an identity I’ll never yield

Enid hummed to the tune, tapping her foot as she laid another pastel green long sleeve across her bed. The voices weren’t in Korean, but Japanese, just like Engeki. She had always loved Asian pop music, and it wasn’t a surprise that after discovering Vocaloids and their unexpectedly hit mobile game, Enid had become slightly obsessed. Every song she listened to in the game was good, even from units she never thought she’d like.

But this particular unit, 25-ji, Nightcord de, had struck a chord with her. The rawness and emotion in their songs always left her breathless and often pushed her to follow their in-game stories. Don’t get her wrong, she liked reading Vivid BAD SQUAD’s storylines too, but despite their catchy K-pop-inspired vibe, Nightcord just resonated with her more.

Especially the stories that focused on Mafuyu Asahina or Mizuki Akiyama, the ones who struggled most with identity and finding themselves.

If we had made this world that composes our existence of being charmed by each other, ring out
Hey, could we stay this way, just like this?
Obstructed by faint expectations, I plug my ears and make a vague face of feigned indifference.
If we could’ve stayed connected, just like this…

Would it have hurt, or would I have wanted to stay?

Enid hummed softly, feeling the ache that came from Mizuki’s part near the end. She knew that feeling all too well, the longing for things to stay the same, the urge to shut out the judgmental stares, to hold onto what was familiar even when it hurt.

Like Mizuki, Enid just wanted to be understood, to exist as herself without having to explain it. Like how she felt about Wednesday. After all the changes between them so far, Enid just wanted things to stay as they were, besties, happy, and no worries.

If we had made this world that pictures our existence of fatefully meeting each other ring out,
Hey, could we stay this way, just like this?
At a loss, we play hide-and-seek, a melancholy of losing our way, and intermingling.
If we could've stayed connected, just like this…

Her eyes closed briefly. The questions in Mizuki’s voice were lost beneath the upbeat melody—it didn’t hide the pain or the longing to be understood that the singer carried. It hit her deeply, and Enid sighed, letting her head drop.

Wednesday’s dark eyes flicked toward the desk where Enid’s phone sat, noting the faint glow of the screen. Thing scurried across the floor and clicked to the next song with precise, deliberate movements. She watched quietly, head tilted just slightly, as if analyzing the way Enid’s shoulders slumped and the faint tension in her jaw. Her expression remained unreadable, but the tilt of her brow suggested she was quietly cataloging every reaction, every sigh, every small flicker of emotion.

“Ugh, I can’t decide what to wear!” Enid groaned, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to her chest.

“You’re overpacking,” Wednesday said, voice cool as ever, turning back to her investigation board. Her jaw tightened imperceptibly as her dark eyes flicked once more toward Enid, noting the tension in her posture.

“It’s a camping trip! I need clothes, a swimsuit, and like—the right outfit to impress Bruno,” Enid said, throwing her hands up.

Wednesday’s shoulder twitched. “You’re still attempting to impress that fur-covered simpleton?”

“Well, we are together now,” Enid said, frowning. “Not that Ajax knows… yet.” She quickly changed the subject. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yes,” Wednesday replied. “Consider this me honoring your wish for a fun and carefree school year.”

“And you seem to forget I want that with you by my side,” Enid growled, her tone sharper than she meant. Her jaw ached as her teeth shifted. “Gah—not again.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, a glint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “Do you need to bite something?”

Enid clamped her mouth shut, cheeks burning. Her gaze flicked to the pale skin of Wednesday’s neck—the faint indentations still visible beneath the collar. They hadn’t fully healed yet, and the thought made her uneasy. Had her half-shifted canines done something that normal teeth couldn’t?

“No, I don’t,” she muttered, turning her back before Wednesday could notice her staring. “Ugh.” Her eyes darted over the pile of clothes. “Dammit, where’s that bikini top?”

Just then, the air shimmered faintly—and a familiar sound of soft breaths broke the quiet.

“How long were you there!?” Enid yelped, whirling around as Agnes appeared out of thin air. Her heart jumped, irritation flooding her veins.

“Long enough,” Agnes said casually, smirking before turning her attention to Wednesday. Her gaze lingered on the girl’s neck.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed before she calmly reached for her jacket and put it on, the motion deliberate.

“A-Are you—what did you hear!?” Enid snapped, her teeth threatening to extend.

“Nothing unusual,” Agnes said, smiling that unnerving little smile of hers. “Considering you two, I’ve heard worse. I’m just here to go over evidence with Wednesday, Fur—no need to get defensive.”

Enid’s patience drained instantly. Her claws itched beneath her skin, her pulse thudding like a drum. Every part of her wanted to lunge, to wipe that smug look off the little stalker’s face.

But she knew better.

She bit back a growl, nails digging into her palms as she forced out a long, shuddering breath. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

Before either of them could respond, Enid grabbed her vest and stormed out the door. The slam echoed down the corridor, sharp and final, leaving Wednesday and Agnes alone in the silence that followed—a silence that felt heavier than any argument.

The next morning, Enid stood at the edge of the school grounds with a furrchino in hand, the cool cup steadying her as she took a long, much-needed sip. The familiar sweetness eased the leftover tension from last night. Today marked the start of the annual camping trip, and even though her bestie wasn’t coming, Enid was determined to have fun. She had her pack, Bruno, and no full moon to worry about this weekend. For once, she could just breathe.

Or at least, that’s what she thought—until she heard the sound of deliberate, measured footsteps behind her.

Enid turned, half-expecting one of her packmates, but froze instead. 

Wednesday stood there, dressed in her usual black, a backpack slung neatly over one shoulder. For a moment, Enid could only stare, her mind scrambling to process what she was seeing. Wednesday Addams—her roomie—was actually coming.

That meant she’d chosen to join the camping trip. They’d be together. Maybe even—if the universe was feeling generous—enjoy it together. No mysteries, no monsters, just… them.

“Oh my god, you changed your mind?” Enid practically squealed, the excitement pouring out of her. Her voice was a little louder than she intended, but she didn’t care. “We’re gonna have so much fun together!”

“Tamp down the exuberance,” Wednesday said evenly, her tone as cold and precise as always. “This outing is merely a cover for my ongoing murder investigation.”

Enid blinked. “A Wednesday slaycation.” She couldn’t help it, a grin tugging at her lips despite the warning in that tone.

“You say that as if she cares,” Agnes’s grating voice cut through, making Enid flinch the moment the girl appeared beside her.

“Scarm psycho, before my claws slip,” Enid warned, teeth flexing beneath her lips. Agnes only smirked in reply.

“Don’t get your furballs in a snarl. I’m just here to assist Wednesday,” the girl said, voice calm and annoyingly composed.

Enid’s eye twitched. Wednesday and Agnes were now discussing the plan right in front of her, casually throwing around phrases and instructions like Enid wasn’t even there. It stung more than she wanted to admit.

“Hey, do you remember she tried to kill me?” Enid barked, reminding Wednesday of a sensitive, unspoken history.

“Yes, but she failed, which proves she’s only an amateur,” Wednesday replied flatly, her dark eyes flicking between the two with unbothered precision.

“Ouch…” Agnes said, tilting her head. Enid stole a glance at her, noticing the slip-up from the younger girl. It almost made her feel bad, and that was putting it lightly.

“Take my pack. Secure me a window seat,” Wednesday said dismissively, her voice clipped, eyes flicking from Agnes to Enid for the briefest moment.

The subtle glance made Enid’s stomach twist. She noticed the tilt of Wednesday’s head, the flicker in her dark eyes, and how they lingered for the briefest moment on her lips, on her teeth. Her canines twitched, claws flexing beneath her sleeves, but she forced herself to stay restrained. Every instinct screamed to bite, snap, mark something—but she held it in, at least for now.

“Hmph, I’ll be sleeping with one eye open,” she muttered under her breath, letting out a sharp huff as the two walked toward the bus. Anger coiled tight in her chest.

“Don’t bother, pup, you wouldn’t even see me coming anyway,” Agnes called, her smug smirk disappearing as she vanished again, leaving Enid to stew.

Her claws flexed and retracted beneath her sleeves, her pulse racing as she watched them go. Her eyes followed Wednesday’s dark silhouette—the coat, the backpack—until she disappeared from view, leaving a hollow pang in Enid’s chest. Her wolf instincts simmered with frustration, but she kept them contained.

Her furrchino had gone watery by the time she noticed, the whipped cream forming a thin, unappetizing skin across the top. She took another small, shaky sip, trying to reclaim a sense of control. The camp wasn’t canceled, the day wasn’t ruined, but the tension in her chest refused to dissipate. She adjusted her vest, shifted the straps, and exhaled sharply.

The movement caused her jaw to clench just enough for her teeth to graze one another, the metallic edge of frustration pressing in. A voice cut through the noise of the camp’s morning bustle.

“Enid?” A deep, concerned voice called. “Your teeth…”

Her head snapped up to see Professor Capri standing a few feet away, eyes narrowing slightly at the faint gleam of her half-extended canines. The werewolf’s chest tightened, a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety knotting in her stomach.

“When did this start happening again?”

“Uh, it’s nothing bad. It’s just Wednesday, making me upset,” Enid said quickly, keeping her mouth shut to hide her partially extended canines. “It’ll go back to normal in a few secs—I just need to chill.”

“Enid, it may not be a full moon tonight, but you could still end up in a lupin cage if this gets out of hand,” Capri warned, her tone firm but gentle.

“I know. Look, I promise, I won’t lose control. I’m not like the younger Furs. Please trust me—I’ve been learning to handle it,” Enid assured her, keeping her teeth hidden.

Capri softened slightly, nodding. “Fine. But if it does get worse, come to my tent. I’ll watch over you for the night. I just want you to be safe, Enid. Understand that.”

“I do!” Enid said, nodding firmly before turning toward the bus. “Thank you, Professor Capri. I should go now.”

She made her way to the bus and spotted Bianca in the only free seat. Sighing quietly, she slid in beside her, forcing her claws to relax beneath her sleeves. The tension in her shoulders eased a little, though a small part of her still ached for Wednesday’s presence.

At first, Enid didn’t feel like talking. But when Bianca started sharing a funny story from class, she found herself listening—and eventually laughing. The conversation flowed easily, and for a while, Enid let herself believe the trip might actually be fun. Even without Wednesday, by her side.

That peaceful thought lasted exactly one hour.

The moment they stepped off the bus, chaos was already waiting. Headmaster Dort stood near the camp entrance, stumbling through what sounded like an apology to a group of irritated strangers. Enid frowned, ears twitching as the shouting carried over the crowd.

Then she saw them—matching uniforms, smug grins, perfectly tied neckerchiefs. 

A troop of Boy Scouts… Of course.

Apparently, Nevermore wasn’t the only group with a reservation this weekend, and judging by the Scouts’ crossed arms and loud protests, they weren’t planning to share.

Enid sighed. “This is gonna end well,” she muttered.

And then, as if summoned by chaos itself, Wednesday stepped forward. Not to calm things down. Not to help Headmaster Dort.

But to propose a competition.

A color war.

Which was how Enid now found herself crouched in the underbrush beside Bruno, dirt sticking to her sweats, the scent of pine thick in the air. Ahead of them, the group of smug normies stood guard around their precious zephyr, like it was some sacred relic. Enid’s pulse quickened, half from nerves, half from the thrill.

She narrowed her eyes, tracking their movements while Bruno cocked his head, listening for footsteps. Enid, though, caught something else—an acrid, chemical tang in the air that made her nose wrinkle.

“Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “They’re coated with it.”

“With what?” Bruno asked, glancing over.

“Wolfsbane,” Enid growled quietly, her nails digging into the dirt. “Those boys are smothered in it—like cologne.”

Bruno blinked, both impressed and uneasy. “Wait—how can you smell that from all the way over here?”

Enid gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t?”

He shook his head. “Not unless I’m in full form,” he murmured, sounding equal parts defensive and curious.

Enid caught the shift in his tone—the subtle don’t push it—and decided to drop it. Instead, she focused forward, watching the normies shuffle around the zephyr. Her claws slid out instinctively as she crept closer through the brush, every muscle coiled.

Then her ears caught it—Ajax’s voice, high and panicked, cutting through all the other noises.

Shit. Her heart skipped. They knocked his beanie off. That means they got theirs.

Without thinking, Enid lunged out from cover, Bruno following right behind. The two of them sprinted low and fast, sneakers and claws kicking up dirt as they tore across the forest. The reek of wolfsbane thickened with every step, burning her throat, but she pushed through it, instincts taking over.

Up ahead, one of the scouts hurled something metallic and round toward the ground. It hit the dirt with a sharp clink—and erupted in a violet-red cloud. The wolfsbane gas spread instantly, searing her lungs with its toxic bite.

Her wolf snarled inside her, rattling its cage, begging to break free. Her pulse hammered in her ears. The air tasted bitter, electric with fury and restraint.

Behind her, Bruno stumbled back, coughing hard as instinct took over, a low whimper escaping his throat. Enid glanced over her shoulder. 

Not what she expected from him… Looks like she had to do this herself.

Enid bared her teeth, the now sharper edges glinting as she lunged toward one of the boys. She caught him in a headlock with ease and tore his mask off, yanking it over her own face in one motion. Her eyes snapped up toward the tree line—Thing was already perched there, watching.

“Get help!” she shouted through the muffled fabric. “It’s tear gas—infused with wolfsbane! Bruno’s gonna die if he breathes too much of it!”

A scout lunged at her from the side. Enid pivoted sharply, kicking him square in the chest before flipping another over her shoulder. Her sneaker stopped just short of the boy’s nose.

 “Excuse me,” she hissed, nostrils flaring. “I was talking.”

The boy froze, eyes wide, and Enid turned just in time to see Thing waving frantically from a nearby branch. A second later, the air filled with a low, rising hum—then chaos.

A swarm of wasps tore through the trees, perfectly coordinated, driving the remaining scouts into retreat. Enid couldn’t help the smirk that curved under her borrowed gas mask. Eugene. Of course.

No time to waste.

She bolted for the zephyr at the center of the clearing, legs burning as she ran. The world blurred around her—trees, shouting, smoke. All that existed was the shimmer of the device ahead. She snatched it up, clutching it tight as adrenaline pounded through her veins.

Branches whipped past her as she sprinted toward the edge of the woods. Just as she broke through the last stretch of brush, a familiar silhouette came into view—dark, still, and waiting like she’d known exactly where Enid would appear.

Wednesday.

For a heartbeat, everything went silent—the only sound her own breathing, ragged and quick beneath the mask. Then she hurled the zephyr toward her.

“Go!” Enid shouted, her voice raw with urgency.

Wednesday caught it midair with effortless precision, the faintest flicker of satisfaction ghosting across her face before she turned and sprinted ahead.

A sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh slipped out of Enid as her knees hit the ground. The adrenaline was already fading, leaving her trembling and breathless.

Bruno was at her side in seconds, crouching low, eyes scanning her face as she pulled the gas mask off. His expression shifted from guilt to quiet awe.

“You okay? That was… really impressive,” Bruno said, both asking and complimenting at once.

Truth be told, Enid didn’t even know where that fight had come from. In the moment, it had felt like dancing—every dodge, every strike, every step perfectly timed. Her body had moved on instinct, her wolf guiding her like a second heartbeat. It was strange, really. They weren’t two halves fighting for control. They were one. 

Was that normal to feel after wolfing out?  

“Thanks,” she said, cheeks flushing. “Um, we should probably get to the others. Hopefully, Wednesday can win it for us.”

Bruno chuckled, shaking his head. “If she can catch up. Their guy had a huge head start.”

Enid smiled faintly as they ran to rejoin the group, branches snapping beneath their feet. In the distance, she spotted Ajax standing with his arms crossed, head low, guilt written all over his face. Her chest tightened. It had to suck, being the one who cost them their advantage.

Still… he was her friend. At least, she hoped he still was.

There’d be time to fix things later. Right now, all that mattered was finishing this war—and hoping Wednesday was already a step ahead.

Bruno and she reached the edge of the cliff just in time as Wednesday and Bianca. Enid’s eyes darted to the normie scout scrambling up the stairs toward the top of the tower. The good news—he was slow. The bad? She had no clue how Wednesday planned to catch up.

What was she thinking…?

Her question was answered a second later by the snap of a grappling hook. Enid blinked, then let out a soft laugh before straightening her face again. Of course, Wednesday Addams had something like that tucked away. That girl was always armed with some new gadget or weapon, as if it were second nature.

The rest unfolded like a movie in slow motion—Wednesday zipping down from the cliff, dark braids streaming behind her as she soared toward the tower’s top. She landed cleanly, boots hitting the wood with finality, and raised the zephyr high.

Victory.

Enid couldn’t help the breath that escaped her—half sigh, half laugh. Nevermore had won, and she’d helped make it happen. No one would really know the part she played, except maybe Bruno… and Thing. But that was okay. She didn’t need recognition; it was enough just knowing she’d mattered.

For the first time all day, the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind a warm, contented buzz.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a blur of normal camp activities—pitching tents, orientation with the camp council, lunch, downtime, dinner, and finally, a glowing campfire complete with s’mores and sticky fingers. Enid stuck mostly with her pack, laughter and playful bickering keeping the air light. Still, every so often, her gaze drifted across to where Wednesday sat with her parents—who, to Enid’s mild horror, had volunteered as chaperones.

She felt a pang of sympathy for her roommate. But she didn’t approach. Wednesday was here for her investigation, not for her.

Ouch. That one hurt to admit.

As the fire began to die down and the others headed for their tents, Enid cradled her hot cocoa close, savoring the last bit of warmth before stepping into the cool night. The soft hum of crickets and distant laughter faded behind her as she reached her tent and slipped inside—only to freeze.

Thing was already there, perched on her backpack, rummaging through one of her briefcases with suspicious precision.

It wasn’t unusual to catch him snooping—but something about the timing made Enid pause. The campfire outside crackled softly, throwing amber light across the tent walls. Somehow, she doubted he was here on his own this time.

“Thing,” she said slowly, crossing her arms, “what are you doing?”

The hand froze mid-rummage, two fingers poking out from beneath a folded t-shirt like a raccoon caught in a trash can. The image made Enid laugh, her earlier tension easing a little. Thing, for his part, seemed to shrink back, curling slightly as if embarrassed.

“So…” she started again, tilting her head, “wanna tell me what’s up?”

Thing shook off the bright pink shirt that had gotten tangled around his wrist and signed one phrase with a slow, deliberate motion. “I missed you.”

Enid’s chest squeezed. “Aww, for real? I missed you, too, Thing! You’re totally an honorary member of the pack. You should hang out with us more often.”

She patted her knee, and he crawled onto it, the cool touch of his fingers grounding her. For a moment, it felt just like being back in Ophelia Hall—safe, cozy, and simple. Thing rested there, fingers drumming idly against her leg, until the sound of footsteps crunching on grass made both of them freeze.

The tent flap shifted, and Bruno’s familiar voice followed. “Hey, Enid. Want to hang out before curfew? I found this really nice spot to look at the stars.”

Enid looked up, blinking at him. The campfire behind him lit the edge of his face in soft gold. “How much time do we have?” she asked.

“About an hour and a half,” he said, smiling in that easy, boyish way of his. “Don’t worry, we won’t get in trouble. I just thought… it’d be nice. You know, with you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard. Enid felt her cheeks warm as she nodded. “Okay. Just—give me a sec.”

Bruno grinned and stepped back outside.

Thing, on the other hand, wilted in her lap. He didn’t need to sign for her to know—he was disappointed. His fingers twitched, slow and sulky.

“Hey,” she whispered gently, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. “After I get back, I’ll do your nails. Or in the morning, promise.”

Thing perked up immediately, pinky twitching in approval before he scuttled off toward her suitcase, already rummaging for polish and a nail file. Enid smiled at the sight, shaking her head fondly.

She slipped on her jacket and ducked out of the tent. The night air was crisp, cool enough to make her skin prickle beneath her sleeves. The campfire smell lingered in the air—smoke and toasted marshmallows—and somewhere in the distance, someone was singing off-key.

Bruno was waiting just a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes lifted toward the stars. When he turned toward her, his smile softened.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” Enid said, smiling back as he offered a hand to help her up. His skin was warm—nice—but not the kind of warmth that reached through her like Wednesday’s cold touch did.

The thought made her blink. 

Wait… why was she thinking about Wednesday right now?

She shook her head and let it pass, focusing instead on the clearing Bruno was leading her to. The stars above were crisp and bright, scattered across a cloudless sky, the waxing gibbous moon illuminating the clearing with pale light. Enid inhaled slowly, letting the calm night sink into her chest.

Crunch!

Her body froze mid-step, every sense firing. Her teeth shifted slightly, claws extending, heart hammering in her ribcage. A faint, unfamiliar scent curled in the air, sharp and deliberate—something approaching from behind the trees.

“Eni—” Bruno began.

“Quiet. Someone’s following us.” Her low, controlled voice halted him immediately, and he obeyed without question.

Enid’s muscles tensed. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing, claws raised, ready to strike. She stalked silently toward the source of the scent, instincts guiding each step. Her teeth bared, body coiled like a spring, every nerve alert.

With a sudden burst, she leapt forward, letting out a wild growl.

“Gaaaah, ow!”

Her eyes widened as she landed on the figure. The hoodie had fallen back, but the familiar beanie confirmed his identity.

Ajax…

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, I thought you were some stalker or something!” Enid scrambled back, panic giving way to relief.

“Yeah, I should’ve thought this through too, no biggie.” Ajax exhaled, brushing himself off and meeting her gaze with those earnest eyes. “Enid, can we talk, for real?”

Enid contemplated his words and glanced at Bruno, who seemed wary but gave a small, understanding nod before returning toward the camp. Bruno’s eyes flicked between her and Ajax, confusion and concern evident. Enid felt a pang of guilt for how she’d treated both of them—and, of course, Wednesday, who lingered in the back of her mind.

She groaned into her hands. Her life felt like it was imploding; so much had changed, she didn’t even know where to begin. How could she even explain her feelings to Ajax—how her emotions had shifted after wolfing out, being seen as a real werewolf among family and peers?

“Enid?” Ajax asked, his fingers brushing against hers, which made her recoil reflexively. Her pulse spiked, a mix of embarrassment and guilt knotting her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, pressing her face into her knees. “I’m so sorry… I should’ve just talked to you from the start and told you I didn’t want to be together anymore.” She felt the chill of the night and the tension between them pressing against her chest. “Instead… I cheated on you with Bruno, and even that’s not going well.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. She braced herself, expecting Ajax to step back, to disappear like the shadow of certainty in her life. But he didn’t.

“Huh? Don’t you like him?” he asked, voice soft, uncertain, but patient, like he was genuinely trying to understand.

She nodded, hugging her legs closer, feeling the warmth of the night brushing against her skin, contrasting with the cold pang in her chest. “Yes… I do, but I don’t know if I trust him. Bruno is… kind, caring, sweet… he’s everything a person should be, but I haven’t been honest with him.” Her voice cracked, almost lost in the night breeze. “And… and then there’s this… weird thing with Wednesday. She’s avoiding me, and I don’t know why…”

“‘Weird’ how?” Ajax prompted, leaning slightly closer, the flicker of moonlight catching the edges of his face.

Enid froze. Heat rushed to her cheeks, burning like wildfire, ears tingling, while her wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless and agitated. “N-Nothing! You didn’t hear anything!” she blurted, her claws flexing inside her sleeves.

“Enid… stop lying. What do you mean?” Ajax’s voice was calm, steady, grounding—but it carried the weight of concern she hadn’t expected.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, almost drowned by the rustling of leaves. “Ajax… swear you won’t tell anyone,” she muttered, lifting her hand to show her pinky.

“I swear I won’t.” He locked his pinky with hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

Enid pulled hers back, almost too fast, before meeting his gaze directly. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I… I bit Wednesday a couple of days ago. Well… technically it started two weeks ago, but…” She exhaled sharply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as the words tumbled out. “Ever since I got back this summer… my moods have been affecting my wolf. My senses heighten… my teeth start to grow—sharpen—and I get this… this overwhelming need to protect.”

“Okay,” he murmured, encouraging her, his eyes patient, searching, trying to understand the storm inside her.

“It started as just… her owing me,” Enid said, voice shaking. “But after I bit her—really hard—in the infirmary…” She trailed off, her hands trembling as tears slipped down her cheeks. “She’s been mad at me. Avoiding me like I don’t exist. I don’t know what to do, Ajax. I just… I just want to fix this. She’s my best friend.”

Her wolf growled low in her chest, restless at the thought of Wednesday being upset with her. The frustration, the guilt, and the longing twisted together, a tangle she didn’t know how to unwind. Enid felt raw and exposed in a way she rarely allowed, wishing she could step back and make everything right—not just with Ajax, but with Wednesday, and with herself.

Ajax exhaled slowly, adjusting his beanie, a mix of confusion and understanding in his eyes. “Enid… first you tell me you cheated on me, and now this…” His voice was steady, careful. “I need time to process, but… I don’t want to stop being your friend. You are like kinda a Nightshade. We stick together, y’know?”

A small part of her relaxed, her wolf settling just enough to let her breathe. But another part still ached for Wednesday—her mind darting to the bite, the tension between them, the unspoken need to make it right.

“As… for Wednesday? Just go talk to her,” Ajax said, tilting his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You two have had worse fights. Didn’t you live with Yoko for a couple of days before Addams finally got her act together?”

Enid let out a shaky laugh, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “Yeah… ha, haha. Just talk to her, even though she’s ignoring me? You really suck at this, Ajax.”

“Hey, I gave good advice,” he shot back, grinning. “If you have to take desperate measures, use that new freakish werewolf strength and pin her to the ground or something.”

Enid’s blush burned hotter than before. She swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Sorry, still getting used to my new strength. But… thanks. I really needed to get that off my chest,” she said, genuine warmth in her voice for the first time that night. “I’ll wake up early and talk to her tomorrow, right at the crack of dawn.”

Ajax nodded, giving her a reassuring smile before heading back to the campground. Enid stayed for a moment longer, letting the quiet wash over her. Normally, she hated being alone, but the subtle sounds of the camp—the rustling leaves, distant laughter, the faint chirp of crickets—felt almost comforting. Even in the dark, macabre shadow of her life at Nevermore, solitude had its strange peace.

So much for romance under the stars…

She finally pushed herself to her feet and made her way back to her tent. Inside, she spotted Thing perched atop her closed suitcase, fingers resting beside a neat lineup of nail polish bottles he’d carefully picked out for their spa time.

“Okay, Thing, I’m back. It’s spa time!” she said with a small, tired smile, her voice soft but genuine.

Thing wiggled his fingers happily, and for the first time that night, Enid felt a little of the weight lift from her chest. She painted his nails until the firelight outside dimmed, their quiet companionship lulling her into a rare sense of peace.

By the time she cleaned up, the camp had fallen still—just the soft rustle of pine needles and the fading crackle of the dying fire. Enid lingered a while longer, eyes tracing the colors on Thing’s nails. Then, with a small sigh, she set her alarm, just in case.

Wednesday always woke up earlier than her. Maybe… maybe tomorrow, she’d actually get a word in before the day began.

The world was barely awake when her alarm went off.

A thin gray light seeped through the canvas, the kind that came just before sunrise—cool, soft, and unmistakably September. The air carried that damp, earthy chill that clung to mornings after rain.

Her alarm shrieked through the stillness like a banshee. Enid groaned, jerking upright—only to immediately bang her head on the tent’s ceiling.

“Ah—ow! Right. Not the dorm room,” she muttered, clutching her forehead as the phone kept screeching. Fumbling to silence it, she collapsed back into her sleeping bag with a low groan, exhaling into the cool air.

For a moment, she just lay there, letting the morning chill seep through the thin fabric beneath her. The air smelled faintly of smoke and pine—sharp, earthy, and way too clean for how she felt. Light bled through the seams of her tent, soft and silvery. Her gaze drifted toward the row of nail polish bottles she and Thing had left out the night before, their colors catching the dawn: lilac, sky blue, and glittery silver.

Only… Thing wasn’t there.

A small smile tugged at her lips.

“Guess he went back to Wednesday,” she murmured, voice still raspy with sleep.

And then it hit her.

Her eyes snapped open wider.

“Crap—Wednesday!”

Right. She still needed to talk to her. The talk. The apology. The “please don’t murder me for existing” conversation.

Enid scrambled for her suitcase, yanking off the shirt she’d slept in and grabbing the first clean one she could find. It was black—of all colors, black—but printed right in the middle were two bright yellow-haired Vocaloids: Rin and Len Kagamine, grinning like the absolute icons they were.

She paused mid-change, staring down at them. 

“…You know what? They slay,” she said, pulling it on with a shrug.

She’d bought it on impulse last summer after recognizing their faces at a convention booth. It was supposed to be her Vocaloid phase—you know, a temporary obsession—but apparently it never really ended. Her playlists were still about seventy percent Vocaloid. Not that she’d ever admit that to Wednesday.

Next came her ripped jeans—comfortable, practical, and expendable, just in case today’s “team-building” activity involved mud, chaos, or both.

When she glanced at her phone again, the screen glowed back a painful 5:30 a.m.

Enid winced at that. “Okay… bright side, she might still be asleep. Downside, if she’s not, I’ll get the ‘I will kill you’ glare.”

She brushed through her hair with her fingers, coaxing it into some kind of order before slipping on her bright pink hoodie—the comfort piece that always felt like her. The bold color almost mocked the darkness of her shirt, but somehow, it worked. A little bit of both sides. Her and Wednesday.

Her heart thudded, and Ajax’s voice replayed in her head: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

 “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered under her breath, zipping up her hoodie. “You didn’t bite her, though.”

The tent zipper rasped as she pulled it open, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet morning. She froze halfway, listening—nothing but wind and the soft rustle of leaves.

She stepped out into the dawn.

The air bit at her skin—cool, crisp, and carrying the faint scent of dew and last night’s campfire. Mist drifted low over the ground, curling around her boots as she stepped forward. The horizon shimmered faintly gold where the first light of dawn broke through the trees, brushing the tents in soft, sleepy hues.

The camp was still—no chatter, no movement—just the distant call of birds and the gentle hush of the nearby lake. Every sound felt amplified in the quiet, from the crunch of pine needles under her shoes to the whisper of her own breathing.

Enid lifted a hand to shield her eyes as a ray of sunlight caught her square in the face. She squinted toward the far end of the camp—past the line of neat, color-coded tents—and found it easily. Wednesday’s tent. Jet-black, perfectly separate from everyone else’s. Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, Wednesday Addams managed to be her own gravitational field.

Slipping into the narrow shadow beside it, Enid dug out her earbuds and pressed them in. Her fingers hovered over her phone for a second before she hit play, letting the soft, electronic hum of her “chill” playlist fill the silence. The first notes of Irony floated through her—light, melancholy, and just detached enough to sound like the inside of her own head.

I’m a little tired of walking.
It’s a trite expression, but,
The road called life is simply too long.

Enid huffed softly through her nose. “Yeah,” she murmured under her breath, “no kidding.” It wasn’t that she wanted to quit—she just didn’t know why everything had to feel so exhausting lately.

I want to rest a little,
But time is cruel with every moment,
And it pulls me along with it.

Her shoulders sagged. The lyrics hit too close—too familiar. Like she was hearing her own doubts sung back to her by a robotic boy with better emotional range than she had this week. The song’s rhythm matched the ache she’d been trying to ignore for days now. Guilt. Confusion. Missing things she couldn’t name without breaking a little.

It looked like things would go well, but,
Instead, there are only things that aren’t going well.

Her head dipped, the words sinking into her bones. Each line felt like a quiet confession, one she didn’t want to admit to even herself.

Something like these feelings of misery,
I’ve tasted them so much that I hate admitting it.

The melody softened, fading into a hazy loop that blurred the edges of her thoughts. Mist gathered along the ground, brushing over her ankles. The sunlight warmed her cheek. Everything felt distant—the camp, her worries, even the sharp edges of her own heartbeat. Just her, the song, and that dull, familiar ache sitting heavy in her chest

But the things I want are always a little out of reach…

Her breathing evened out. She leaned against the side of Wednesday’s tent, her temple resting lightly against the fabric. Her eyelids fluttered as the rhythm lulled her toward sleep—a peaceful, in-between space where nothing hurt too much.

Which was exactly when she heard it—the faint rasp of a zipper sliding open.

It took her a second to realize it wasn’t part of the song. Her eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, until a shadow stretched across the pale canvas beside her.

Wednesday. Emerging like the morning itself—quiet, deliberate, and annoyingly inevitable. Even half-asleep, Enid felt her pulse stutter, the song still whispering faintly in her ears.

Of course, she’d wake up right now!!

“Enid?” Wednesday’s tone was level, but her brow lifted slightly, assessing.

“Hehe, morning, Wednesday! Uh—it’s not what it looks like, I wasn’t—well, I kind of was, but not in a weird way, I just—” Enid froze the instant she noticed the black backpack slung over Wednesday’s shoulder. “Wait, hold up—what are you doing with that? Where are you going?”

“To investigate, and I don’t need your assistance,” Wednesday replied, eyes unblinking.

“Oh, hell no!” Enid jumped to her feet, eyes narrowing. “You are not going anywhere without me! I am so over you almost getting killed on a daily basis.”

“Thing will accompany me,” Wednesday said, flat and precise.

“And so will I! I’m not weak, Wednesday—I literally took out three overweight Boy Scouts yesterday,” Enid insisted, gesturing vaguely toward herself.

Wednesday’s silence stretched, measured, and sharp. Enid’s chest tightened for a second, and then she noticed it—a subtle slackening of Wednesday’s posture, a quiet shift that said more than words ever could. Whatever argument Wednesday had been ready with, it had vanished.

“You may come,” Wednesday said finally, turning to walk ahead, her steps precise. “Just don’t complain. We have a thirty-minute hike ahead.”

Enid blinked, then grabbed her backpack in a flurry, almost tripping over her own feet. “Got it! No complaints! Totally ready!” She bolted after Wednesday, laughing breathlessly, the sound echoing oddly among the trees.

Thing wiggled on Wednesday’s shoulder as if it had been waiting all day for this. Enid struggled to keep up, heart pounding, trying not to let her grin slip into something more anxious. A semi girls’ day—finally—but every step away from the campgrounds reminded her how much she’d rather not be out here.

The sun climbed higher, relentless and sharp. Enid tugged at her hoodie, then unzipped it, fanning herself. “Ugh… it’s—wow, it’s hot.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked to her chest. “You’re wearing black.”

Enid snorted. “And that surprises you? I’m not always a walking rainbow, Wednesday.” She nudged her shoulder.

Wednesday’s shove was purposeful, deliberate—enough to send Enid sprawling onto the dirt. She scrambled to her feet, coughing, wiping dust from her hoodie and shirt. “Gah! Okay… not a nudging person,” she muttered.

“This is not a leisure stroll,” Wednesday said flatly, stepping over a tree root. “It’s a serious matter.”

Enid jogged to catch up, brushing herself off, but she couldn’t hide the mischief in her eyes. “Right… serious matter,” she said mock-solemnly. “Whatever you say.”

After a few quiet minutes, Thing decided to intervene, tapping Wednesday’s shoulder and pointing toward the characters on Enid’s black shirt.

Enid glanced down and flushed. “Oh… um, they’re from a Japanese franchise. It’s kind of old, but I only got into it because of the mobile game.”

Thing leapt from Wednesday to Enid’s shoulder, tapping to signal curiosity.

“Haha, it’s called Project Sekai,” Enid explained. “It’s a rhythm game, but it also has stories about five main units.”

“Units?” Thing tapped insistently. “Do you have a favorite?”  

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her expression carefully neutral, but her eyes flicked to Enid, quietly following the conversation.

“Well… units are basically music groups,” Enid said, leaning slightly toward Thing. “My favorite… hmm, that’s tough. Vivid BAD SQUAD’s style is the closest to K-pop. But story-wise, I connect more with Nightcord at 25:00… that group’s more realistic, more relatable, I guess.”

Wednesday’s eyebrow rose. “How can a fictional character be relatable?”

Enid blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then leaned in, smirk sharp and teasing. “Wait—you’re telling me Viper isn’t supposed to be relatable in your story? No wonder your editor keeps telling you to rewrite things.”

“Viper is a detective, not an overly emotional teenager,” Wednesday replied, voice flat but precise.

“Yeah, well, these so-called emotional teenagers in Nightcord have serious issues,” Enid said, frowning and crossing her arms. “Emotionally abusive parents, identity struggles, crippling depression… stuff you wouldn’t really understand. But that sort of stuff isn’t suited for you or Viper, huh?”

Wednesday’s gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly, her tone controlled and precise. “I understand perfectly. I simply choose not to focus on it. Not all narratives require personal trauma to be compelling.”

Enid tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Sure… but sometimes relatability makes a story hit harder.”

For a moment, Wednesday’s eyes lingered on the path ahead. “Occasionally. But not always.”

Enid let out a soft sigh, frustration and curiosity mingling in her expression. “At least tell me I’m right on this.”

Wednesday’s voice dropped slightly, quieter than usual, yet steady. “Why do you insist that Viper should be emotional?”

Enid tilted her head thoughtfully, studying her. Slowly, she reached out and brushed a hand over Wednesday’s wrist. “Because without emotions, the character doesn’t have a real drive.”

“Knowledge is a drive,” Wednesday replied, calm and deliberate, her eyes never leaving Enid’s.

“But it’s not as strong, Wednesday,” Enid said, her playful smirk softening into something more serious. “You need to understand that.”

They froze, caught in the silence between them. Enid’s gaze drifted down toward Wednesday’s pale neck, noting the bite marks, no longer angry or pink. Her wolf stirred, teeth shifting sharper, a low growl rumbling in her chest. She forced herself to look back up at Wednesday’s dark brown eyes—molten lava more than cool coal.

“S-sorry,” Enid stammered, her pulse spiking as instinct and panic clawed beneath her calm facade.

Wednesday remained perfectly still, her posture unreadable, eyes fixed ahead. Enid didn’t know what to say, but it was clear she had crossed some invisible line.

“We should keep moving,” Wednesday said quietly, breaking the silence. “We’re only halfway there.” Her voice was flat and methodical, but it carried a subtle reassurance that kept Enid moving forward.

They continued through the thickening trees, the shadows stretching like fingers across the path. The wind rustled through the pines, carrying a faint, hollow whisper that made each step feel heavier. Slowly, the outline of a cabin emerged ahead—its weathered siding and dark, shuttered windows casting an unsettling silhouette against the dimming forest light.

Wednesday pushed the door open and stepped inside without hesitation, leaving Enid to follow. The air inside was stale, heavy with disuse. Her gaze drifted toward a cluttered desk, papers strewn across its surface in chaotic piles. While Wednesday disappeared toward the back, Enid lingered, her curiosity getting the better of her.

The notes were dense—scribbles, diagrams, photos. She couldn’t make sense of half of it. “What the hell is this case…” she muttered, flipping through the pages. One photograph stopped her cold—Willow Hill. The asylum for criminal outcasts. Or so she’d thought.

“Enid, did you find anything?”

The sharp voice behind her made her yelp, nearly dropping the photo. “Wednesday!” she gasped, spinning around—only to meet the girl’s unblinking stare, Thing perched neatly on her shoulder.

“Did you find anything useful?” Wednesday repeated, utterly unbothered by Enid’s startled reaction.

“No, just… pictures. What about you?”

“I have found nothing of use,” Wednesday said curtly. But the precision in her tone made Enid alarmed.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, stepping forward, eyes narrowing on the black backpack slung over Wednesday’s shoulder. “You really think I’m that stupid?”

“You’re naïve and overly trusting,” Wednesday replied evenly. “But not stupid.”

“Don’t belittle me!” Enid snapped, her voice breaking halfway through the sentence. Her breathing came fast, sharp. “Do you seriously think I’m not capable of understanding what’s going on? I’m so sick of your damn secrets, Wednesday!”

The words hit the air like sparks. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Wednesday just stood there, calm and unreadable as ever, her hands tucked neatly into the pockets of her black puffy jacket. Her stillness made Enid’s skin prickle. That maddening calm — like she could dissect Enid’s emotions under a microscope — only made everything worse.

“Say something!” Enid demanded. Her claws ached beneath her nails, threatening to push through. “You can’t keep doing this — acting like I’m just going to smile like an idiot while you keep everything bottled up!”

She took a step forward, and Wednesday stepped back. Then again. The rubber soles of her platform shoes scraped faintly against the floor until her shoulders brushed the basement door.

Enid planted her palms on the wall beside her — one on each side — boxing her in. The space between them shrank to nothing. She could see the faint rise and fall of Wednesday’s chest, the edge of pale skin just visible between her collar and the black fabric of her jacket. Her pulse was a steady drum in her ears.

“You think you’re untouchable,” Enid said, her voice rough but quiet now. “Always calm, always in control. But you’re not. You bleed. You break. And that night, you—” She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “You needed me to save you.”

Something flickered in Wednesday’s eyes — not fear, not quite — but it was something.

The air between them felt charged, heavy with things neither of them had ever dared to say. Enid could smell the faint traces of Wednesday’s shampoo — something dark and clean, like cedar and smoke. Every instinct screamed at her to step back, but her body refused to listen.

Her breath brushed against Wednesday’s jaw. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You don’t get it, do you? You keep pretending nothing gets to you, but right now…” Her words caught in her throat. “You’re not untouchable at all.”

A faint shiver ran through Wednesday — tiny, but there. That single movement sent a jolt through Enid’s chest like lightning.

She blinked, realizing how close she was. The sight of her own reflection in Wednesday’s wide, dark eyes stopped her cold. Her fangs pressed against her lips, and her claws scraped the wall beside Wednesday’s head, leaving faint white lines in the wood.

Then it hit her — what she was about to do.

Enid stumbled back as if she’d been shocked. “Oh my god,” she gasped, her voice cracking. “shit, why—why is this happening?”

Her knees hit the floor hard, palms slapping against the cold wood. She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, breath stuttering as she tried to steady herself. Sweat beaded along her hairline and slid down the side of her face. “It’s like I can’t fucking stop it,” she said, voice shaking. “Every time you’re near me, I just—” Her words faltered, her throat closing up. “I’m losing it.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Everything around her seemed too bright, too loud, too close. The sound of her own breathing filled the silence, ragged and uneven.

Across from her, Wednesday was still standing, chest rising and falling faster than usual. Her eyes were darker, wider in a way Enid had never seen before — like something in her composure had cracked, even if just for a second.

Enid stayed frozen where she was, too afraid to move, too aware of the space between them.

Then Wednesday stepped closer. Slowly, deliberately. The black fabric of her jacket rustled softly as she moved, and Enid’s stomach twisted with a mix of dread and something she couldn’t name.

The drop of a backpack broke the silence — a dull thud against the floorboards.

“Thing,” Wednesday said quietly, not looking away from Enid, “go out and keep watch.”

Thing hesitated on her shoulder, his attention flicking between them. He seemed to linger for a moment, his fingers flexing as if he wanted to intervene, before he finally scuttled down and disappeared out the cabin door.

The wind outside sighed through the trees, carrying the faint creak of branches and the hum of distant insects. Inside, the air felt thick and heavy, as if the walls themselves were waiting to see what would happen next.

Enid didn’t dare look up. Her claws were half-extended, her breathing shallow. Every muscle in her body screamed to run, to hide, to do something—but all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor, feeling Wednesday’s gaze on her like a weight she couldn’t shake.

Wednesday turned back to the desk and lit a single candle, the soft glow casting long, shifting shadows across the floor. Her gaze drifted over Enid, unflinching, assessing—but not accusing. The intensity in her eyes made Enid’s heart skip, even as she tried to appear composed.

“Why did you really come, Enid?” Wednesday asked, her voice low and cutting, calm but sharp.

Enid swallowed hard, hands trembling slightly. “’Cause I’m sick of you ignoring me. We haven’t talked properly since that happened, and I hate it.”

“Well, that mark hasn’t gone away,” Wednesday said sharply, accusative as a blade. “You said it would.”

“I know that! Usually it does—that’s what my brothers told me, that’s what we were taught in werewolf studies. Wednesday, I really am sorry.”

“I’m not mad,” Wednesday said, her voice softening just enough to be disorienting.

“Huh?”

Wednesday stepped closer. Her dark eyes stayed fixed on Enid’s, unyielding, and for a moment the room felt smaller, heavier. Enid’s pulse raced. She could feel the subtle shift in Wednesday’s weight, the calm precision in the way she moved.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Sinclair,” Wednesday said, voice still measured, almost clinical, yet edged with something that made Enid’s instincts flare.

Enid’s throat tightened. “Why?” she asked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy.

Wednesday’s jaw tightened. She swallowed subtly, then leaned in just slightly, enough that Enid could feel the weight of her presence like a steady, grounding pressure.

“It’s not important,” Wednesday said finally, voice low, calm, deliberate. “Right now… You need an outlet.”

Enid’s eyes widened, pulse spiking. “Wait, what do you—”

But Wednesday didn’t wait for an answer. She shrugged off her puffy black vest, setting it aside with precision. Then her long-sleeved shirt followed, peeled away slowly and deliberately, revealing pale skin and the black fabric beneath. She didn’t flinch under the cool air or the intensity of Enid’s stare; if anything, her stillness made Enid’s wolf roar louder.

Her bra was simple but sharp—black, lined with lace, elegant in that understated, precise way only Wednesday could pull off. 

Wait—Why the hell was she even noticing that right now?

Enid’s chest tightened, heart hammering so loudly she could barely hear herself breathe.

“What the hell are you—aaaah!” Enid squeaked as Wednesday settled squarely onto her lap.

She was already sitting cross-legged on the floor, and the sudden, assured weight stole a sharp gasp from her lungs. Wednesday’s scent—ink, rain, and faint metal—hit her all at once, and Enid’s muscles went taut, teeth catching her lower lip.

Wednesday didn’t move away. Her posture was calm, deliberate, her expression unreadable, but her dark eyes stayed fixed on Enid’s. “Control it, Enid. Whatever is happening, you’re not an ordinary Fur. Overcome it, now.”

The words barely registered. Enid’s body trembled, claws flexing helplessly against the floorboards. Every nerve burned with need—need to ground herself, to stop the storm under her skin before it broke loose. She didn’t want to hurt her.

God, she didn’t.

Her chest heaved as she struggled for control. Slowly, carefully, she leaned forward, seeking something solid to hold onto—something that could steady the chaos racing through her veins. Her forehead pressed against the cool edge of Wednesday’s bare shoulder, and the contact hit her like a breath of relief—sharp, dizzying, grounding all at once. A soft, choked sound escaped her as her arms curled around Wednesday’s waist, pulling herself close, seeking stability in the cold girl above her.

Her nails, longer now and trembling, grazed the smooth skin along Wednesday’s spine—just enough to draw a breath, not pain. She bit down softly on the shoulder, canines pressing into delicate skin, a small reminder to herself to stay calm.

“Don’t… complain later,” Enid huffed, voice rough and uneven.

A stifled sound came from Wednesday—controlled, precise, unshaken. Her shoulder shifted slightly under Enid’s mouth, a minimal movement that carried weight, a silent acknowledgment of the closeness. She exhaled softly, the vibration passing through Enid as warmth and reassurance. It sent a strange, electric heat rushing through Enid’s chest, making her pulse spike and her ribs tighten.

Enid pressed closer, letting the weight, the stillness, and the subtle acknowledgment anchor her. For the first time since stepping into the creepy cabin, the storm inside her began to ebb; her pulse slowed as she clung to and trembled in the calm presence of Wednesday.

Seconds—or minutes, who knew—slipped away in silence. The storm inside her eased, replaced by a heavy calm she couldn’t explain. Her wolf instincts purred under her skin instead of clawing to get out. Every nerve felt alive, every heartbeat a reminder of the strange, grounding closeness between them.

Then she felt it—fingers, calloused from cello strings, sliding into her hair. They brushed gently at the base of her ears, tracing small, deliberate motions that made her shiver. The contact wasn’t dominance or control; it was quieter, steadier. Reassurance. Understanding. A tether that pulled her back from the edge of her own instincts, and yet made her feel more alive than ever.

Enid didn’t move. She didn’t want to. The scent of candle wax and old wood mingled with Wednesday’s, grounding her in a way nothing else could.

By the time sunlight had shifted through the cracks in the boarded windows, the world outside felt distant, quiet, almost still. Safe, even. Enid couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal. But—hell—it felt real. And all of it came from Wednesday.

Seriously, what the fuck was happening to her… 

And why, despite her mind screaming otherwise, did she never want to let go?

After what felt like hours in that fragile silence, Enid’s body grew warm. She shifted slightly, slipping one arm away to shrug off her colorful hoodie with practiced ease. The sudden loss of warmth made Wednesday tense, a barely perceptible shiver running through her frame before she instinctively pressed closer again.

Enid blinked, surprised, but didn’t hesitate. She tossed her jacket aside and wrapped her arms back around Wednesday, burying her face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in like a secret she wasn’t ready to lose.

She hadn’t expected to see Wednesday like this—stripped down not just of her clothes, but of that unbreakable composure she wore like armor. The faint tremor in her breathing, the way her fingers rested against Enid’s neck—steady, but uncertain—said more than words ever could.

Wednesday’s touch wasn’t meant to restrain. It wasn’t even meant to comfort, not in the traditional sense. It was protective, like she was making sure Enid wouldn’t vanish if she dared to blink.

Enid felt it in every small movement—the cautious drag of a thumb against her pulse, the rigid set of her shoulders that betrayed just how foreign this closeness still was. Wednesday Addams, who flinched at casual affection, was now the one holding her as though letting go would undo something vital.

For a moment, Enid thought about pulling back, about asking what was wrong—but she already knew. Wednesday’s guilt hung heavy in the air between them, thick as the candle wax and the scent of old wood surrounding the cabin. She could feel it in the way Wednesday’s chest rose too slowly, in the faint tremor that betrayed her calm.

Enid wanted to tell her it was okay—that she was safe, that this didn’t have to mean anything more than just being there. But then Wednesday’s fingers tightened slightly, just enough to stop her from speaking.

So she stayed quiet.

She listened to the steady, restrained heartbeat against her ear and let her own sync to it, her wolfish instincts settling for the first time in days.

“This is weird…” Enid finally spoke, earning a subtle shift from Wednesday—the hands on the back of her neck loosening, then sliding to Enid’s shoulders as she gently pushed her back, testing boundaries.

“You say that as if our entire existence isn’t peculiar already,” Wednesday deadpanned, her unblinking eyes fixed on Enid.

“Okay, it’s weird as shit. I just… I don’t like being away from you. You were my first real friend, and I don’t want to lose that, not when so much is happening with me. I’m super scared, Wednesday.” Enid sniffled, leaning in just enough to press her forehead into the girl’s shoulder. Her nose brushed the faint mark on Wednesday’s skin, and for a moment the world narrowed to that shared space—the warmth, the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

It was intimate in a way Enid could never have been with Bruno or Ajax. Vulnerable, real, and safe. She could feel Wednesday stiffen slightly, the tiniest flicker of humanity showing beneath the usual cool exterior.

“We need to return to camp… It’ll be evening by the time we get back,” Wednesday said in a measured, even tone, though there was a subtle tension in her shoulders.

“Just a little longer,” Enid murmured, her voice soft, almost pleading. “Please… I just need this.”

Wednesday didn’t reply. She simply leaned forward, resting her face against the werewolf’s shoulder. Enid’s breath hitched, pressing her lips lightly against the warm, bare skin at the nape of Wednesday’s neck, savoring the quiet and closeness. It was a small solstice, a fleeting moment of peace—and everything she had craved for weeks.

Eventually, the spell broke. Reality crept back in as Enid’s grip eased, her arms falling away. Wednesday didn’t say anything—she simply stood, silent and deliberate, reaching for her discarded shirt.

Enid watched, breath caught somewhere between her ribs and throat, as Wednesday slipped the black fabric back over her shoulders, fingers steady, precise. The small, familiar motions—pulling the sleeves, smoothing the hem—felt almost ceremonial after what had just happened.

The warmth between them faded, replaced by a quiet ache that settled deep within. Enid stayed seated on the floor, letting herself breathe, careful not to disturb the fragile calm that lingered. Then, when Wednesday reached for her vest, Enid finally turned away—because watching any longer might make her feel something she wasn’t ready to name.

“Hey, Wednesday…” Enid’s voice came out softer than she meant it to. “Could we… do this again sometime? Not, like, all the time or anything. I just—” she hesitated, fumbling for words. “I don’t know why, but I feel so comfortable when we’re close. My wolf likes it.”

Wednesday’s gaze lingered on her for a few beats before replying, a subtle softness behind her usual stoicism: “If it will keep your temperamental outbursts in check, I don’t see why not.”

Enid’s eyes widened. That was a yes—permission, finally, in a way that felt real. Her chest warmed, and even her wolf seemed to relax in agreement. There was no one else in the world she felt this safe with—this whole, undeniable mixture of trust, closeness, and quiet thrill.

Wednesday stepped closer, extending her hand. “We need to leave. We’ve already spent too much time here.”

“Okay.” Enid nodded, sliding on her pink jacket and taking Wednesday’s hand in hers. They stood together in comfortable silence, a quiet understanding threading between them.

For now, Enid decided not to question what Wednesday was still keeping to herself. A small, mischievous smile crept across her face at the thought of Agnes and how she’d react when she found out she’d spent this time with Wednesday. Some things were just too good not to gloat about later.

Wednesday seemed to notice, raising a single eyebrow before turning to pick up her backpack and open the cabin door. Thing, perched near the window, skuttled back nervously as Wednesday’s sharp gaze landed on him.

“You will never speak of this,” Wednesday warned him, voice flat and precise. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Enid as if the warning applied to her, too.

Enid hesitated, then grinned. “Only if you read some of Nightcord’s stories and maybe listen to a few songs. Then maybe I won’t let it slip that Wednesday Addams actually wanted to hug me.”

“What I did was a necessity,” Wednesday said, crossing her arms. “However, if that will keep both of you silent, I will consider it.”

Enid bounced lightly next to her best friend, smiling at the small concession. Thing, pleased by the arrangement, hopped onto her shoulder and leaned into her temple. She chuckled softly, feeling the tension ease as Wednesday stalked ahead with her usual calculated purpose.

“So, what exactly did you see?” Enid whispered to Thing.

“Nothing I haven’t already, but Wednesday wanting to keep close was new.” Thing tapped her shoulder, prompting Wednesday to pause briefly before continuing.

“Yeah, that was strange, but honestly, it was pretty cold in there,” Enid whispered, earning a sassy tap back from Thing.

“Thing, stop gossiping and come here,” Wednesday commanded, voice sharp. Both Enid and the hand froze in place.

“Ohh, someone’s busted,” Enid snorted, watching Thing deflate before hopping down and skidding toward Wednesday’s feet.

“Sinclair, stop dragging your feet. It’s going to take longer if you don’t move,” Wednesday reminded her, voice clipped. Enid rolled her eyes but followed obediently.

The two then flicked on their flashlights and entered the forest. The soft crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the faint rustle of nocturnal wildlife reminded Enid of previous nighttime adventures with Wednesday—like the birthday ambush, or the time she nearly died protecting her from Tyler. The memories mingled with the current tension, grounding her in both fear and warmth.

“Hey, Wednesday?” Enid asked carefully, earning a subtle tilt of her goth head.

“Yes?”

“Why did you go and talk to Tyler? If it wasn’t your feelings, why go through all that trouble? Willow Hill isn’t exactly a stroll in the park.”

“Try telling that to Uncle Fester…” Wednesday murmured, then inhaled deeply. “I told you before—it was for the case. I’m not doing anything remotely for Tyler. He’s merely a pawn.”

“I see…” Enid sighed, shining her flashlight along the path. “You still won’t tell me what this is all about?”

“No,” Wednesday said evenly. “Enid, I wanted you to have an easy year, the carefree one you deserve.”

“Nothing will ever be that way if you aren’t involved, though, Wednesday,” Enid admitted softly. “I can’t imagine you not being there with me. You’re literally the dark cloud to my sun. It just wouldn’t be the same…I can’t live without you by my side.”

Wednesday stopped, turning to face her. For a moment, her expression was unreadable—those dark eyes holding something caught between conflict and care. Then she stepped closer, quiet but certain, until the air itself seemed to still between them.

Enid didn’t move, barely breathed.

Wednesday’s hand found her wrist, fingers cool and steady. Slowly, deliberately, she traced down until their hands met—her fingers slipping between Enid’s, interlacing, grounding.

“We need to hurry. Don’t let go,” Wednesday said, her tone protective but controlled.

Enid felt a warmth spread through her chest, subtle but insistent. Her wolf settled slightly at the touch, comforted by the restraint and focus in Wednesday’s grip. She wanted to press closer, to linger, but she let it remain simple—quiet, steady, intimate.

For the rest of the hike, neither dared speak. The forest around them felt muted, shadows stretching long under their flashlights. Enid’s mind wandered briefly, imagining what it might mean if these touches were more, if these moments weren’t fleeting—but she pushed the thought away. It wasn’t the time, it wasn’t the place. For now, the closeness, the trust, and the shared silence were enough.

By the time they reached Camp Jericho, evening had fully settled in. Lanterns flickered between the trees, casting soft halos over rows of canvas tents. Laughter and the faint crackle of fire drifted through the cool air, but Enid barely heard it — not with Wednesday’s hand still wrapped around hers, firm and grounding.

Then her heart stuttered. Waiting near Wednesday’s tent was none other than Morticia Addams.

“Wednesday,” Morticia said, her voice smooth but edged with that Addams sharpness. “You’ve missed the whole day.” Her dark gaze shifted, landing on Enid. “And I see you weren’t alone.”

“Oh—haha, hey, Mrs. Addams,” Enid blurted out, giving a small wave she instantly regretted. Wednesday’s grip tightened — not painfully, but enough to make Enid glance down in surprise.

Morticia’s smile was faint, practiced. “That explains why Professor Capri has been prowling the camp all day. She seemed quite distressed looking for you, Miss Sinclair.”

“Oh no,” Enid muttered. “She was?”

“Indeed.”

“Right. Uh—thank you! I should go… fix that!” Enid said quickly, the words tumbling over each other as she pulled her hand free. Wednesday didn’t stop her, though Enid swore she felt the slightest hesitation before their fingers slipped apart.

She jogged away, trying to calm her racing pulse. The night air bit at her cheeks as she followed the path back toward the Furs tents — and sure enough, the unmistakable figure of Professor Capri stood waiting near her tent, arms crossed, posture taut.

“Enid Sinclair,” Capri said sharply. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“Professor Capri, I’m so sorry,” Enid started, voice tumbling out fast. “I was with Wednesday — we went on a hike this morning, and then we got kind of lost? We didn’t mean to be gone that long, I swear.”

Capri exhaled through her nose, rubbing her temple like she was trying to massage away a headache. “Enid, tomorrow is the full moon. You can’t just disappear when your control is still… inconsistent. That was dangerous.”

“Nothing even happened!” Enid said quickly, too defensively, and immediately winced at how it sounded.

Capri’s gaze softened a fraction. “Maybe not this time. But you’re still learning. Accidents happen — especially when you’re tired or emotional.”

Enid’s throat tightened. “I wasn’t— I mean, I had it under control.”

“Then prove it,” Capri said evenly. “Be at the lupin cages by five tomorrow evening. Before dinner. We’ll work through the shift together.”

Enid hesitated, her pride and instincts clashing. She didn’t want to be told what to do — not anymore. But Capri’s tone wasn’t cold, just weary… protective.

Finally, Enid nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Capri’s shoulders eased. “Now go get cleaned up. You still have one more campfire to enjoy with your friends.”

Enid gave a small, sheepish grin before slipping into her tent. The moment the flap fell shut behind her, her smile faded. The anger she’d felt earlier — the snap in her voice — it wasn’t like her.

She didn’t mean to get that worked up. But lately, every time someone told her what to do, something inside her just bristled. It wasn’t rebellion — it was more like instinct.

And it was growing stronger.

She thought about Bruno, how easily he’d gone still when she’d told him to stop last night. He’d listened instantly. Submitted. The memory made her pulse quicken — not with pride exactly, but with something close.

It only worked on other Furs, though.

Was that what Wednesday had meant earlier?

The thought sank deep, heavy in her chest. Because Wednesday was right — whatever she was, it wasn’t an ordinary wolf.

So what was she?