Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wednesday Addams was flushed.

It was absurd. Wednesday didn’t get flushed.

In fact, she prided herself on her ability to remain unaffected by her surroundings, no matter how physically taxing or mentally strenuous.

Not even during her most intense fencing battles with Bianca, or amid her long-winded grave-digging sessions, did Wednesday even come close to breaking a sweat. According to her mother, she possessed a nervous system made of tungsten. She was determined to uphold that reputation.

But how could she, when (for some extremely vexing reason) Enid Sinclair’s piercing blue eyes were making her palms perspire and her cheeks color?

Wednesday resisted the urge to asphyxiate herself.

She couldn’t make sense of it. Enid’s eyes had never elicited such a reaction from her before.

When they first met, Wednesday was thoroughly nauseated by the things—so vivacious and bright, they seemed to bore a hole straight through her own retinas. It was uncomfortable, even bordering painful at times (a part of Wednesday enjoyed that aspect), but never physically disturbing. Not like this.

If Wednesday thought she was capable of the sensation, she’d label herself flustered.

Bile burned her throat at the mere notion.

There must have been another explanation. Once again, she analyzed the situation.

The pair had been at The Weathervane for over an hour. It was a Friday, and unusually cloudless for the month of April; Wednesday grumbled inwardly at the sunlight accosting her through the window beside their booth. Enid had insisted on “grabbing” coffee after classes ended (“We’ll be out in a jiff!”), which, naturally, led to the situation Wednesday now found herself in.

Across from her, spirited as ever, Enid babbled inanely about something Wednesday could not care less about.

An hour was much longer than Wednesday typically spent entertaining Enid’s jabbering; she normally couldn’t handle more than fifteen minutes of the sonic torment. But, she reasoned, some days were more tolerable than others. So… today must have been an especially tolerable day.

To ensure Enid was still speaking nonsense, Wednesday briefly tuned back into the one-way conversation.

“…so I told her, you know, that was so out of pocket, what you said! I mean, like, how do you just go up to someone and say something like that? It’s like—it’s like calling Jung Kook ugly! It makes zero sense…”

Yes, still balderdash. Yet…

Wednesday should be irritated. She should have the pressing urge to cut out Enid’s flailing tongue and nail it to the table to stop her incessant talking.

But in secret truth, she was inexplicably, infuriatingly… un-annoyed.

In fact, not only was she not annoyed by Enid’s ceaseless codswallop, she found it to be… somewhat… humiliatingly… endearing.

That realization, in and of itself, was enough to rattle Wednesday to her core.

(The last time something had truly shaken her, she had been engaged in osculation with a Hyde.)

Before she could analyze further, more unfamiliar experiences made themselves known. For instance, every time Enid would look at her, her crystal-blue eyes wide and emotive, Wednesday felt something inside her twist and plummet.

It was an utterly puzzling ordeal. She half-considered seeking medical attention. At one point, she thought she might be exhibiting symptoms of a heart attack, her chest becoming tight and her breathing turning shallow.

Ugh. A truly prosaic way to die.

“And… you’re not listening, are you?” Enid’s newly subdued tone brought Wednesday out of her head.

She blinked once at the colorful girl. Her lengthy pause answered the question for her.

But the muted disappointment that etched itself onto Enid’s face in the next moment caused something unprecedented to occur.

Regret bloomed in Wednesday’s gut.

Preposterous. She didn’t regret things.

Nevertheless, against her better judgement, Wednesday was opening her mouth to provide some kind of ridiculous solace for her loquacious roommate.

“I find it fatiguing trying to follow your aimless chatter. However, if it upsets you, I will make more of an effort to do so in the future.”

It was Enid’s turn to blink.

Wednesday almost blanched. Almost.

Since when did she care if anything upset anyone? Wednesday shifted in her seat.

Still, she held Enid’s gaze unabashedly, deciding to pretend that she hadn’t just said something completely unnecessary and out of character.

Wednesday felt something hammer irregularly against her ribcage as a smirk pulled at the corners of Enid’s mouth.

“You’d do that? For me?” Enid’s tone was saccharine. Disgusting.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. She ignored the way her organs were now engaged in some kind of feral dance with each other.

“It would be for my own sanity, actually. I much prefer your blithering to your ardent lamenting of my inability to contribute to your asinine prattling.”

Enid’s eyebrows creased.

“Okay… I’m gonna need a dictionary for, like, half of what you just said, but I’m pretty sure you just admitted that you like to hear me talk.”

“I did not admit anything of the sort, Enid,” Wednesday deadpanned. “I merely tolerate your poor attempts at discourse.”

Enid was still smirking; Wednesday wanted to carve it out of her face for the way it was making her stomach react.

“Right,” Enid said, elongating the word. “You don’t have to worry, you know. I won’t torture you any more than usual just because you’re suddenly so tolerant of my hot gossip.”

Wednesday was about to argue that she was incapable of worrying about anything when Enid winked at her. It caused some kind of palpitation to occur in her heart, and her words caught in her throat.

Wednesday swallowed. She was exceedingly discomfited now, not to mention extremely perplexed by her own bodily reactions, though she did well not to reveal anything to the garish girl sitting across from her.

Wednesday resorted to deepening her scowl, but Enid’s insufferable smile only widened.

Another violent flip of her organs, and something irreversible switched inside of Wednesday.

“Um… are you okay?” Enid asked after a moment. Her eyebrows were furrowed in what could only be concern, much to Wednesday’s dismay.

Wednesday normally wasn’t one to shy away from uncomfortable situations, but she suddenly found herself unable to look at Enid any longer.

She glanced down. One of her hands was gripping the edge of the table.

When had that happened? Wednesday never lost control of her body. But something was happening to her, something odd. And right now, she couldn’t for the death of her figure out how to delay the alarm that was constricting her chest.

“I’m fine,” she bit out. But her voice shook and her knuckles were stark against the edge of the table.

A barista started a blender. The sound was somehow amplified inside of her head. Wednesday tensed.

“Wednesday—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. She shut her eyes against the suddenly overbearing light coming through the window.

She took measured breaths, remembering that it was an important part of overcoming this kind of assault.

It had been ages since she’d had one. Why now?

’You know why,’ she could practically envision Thing signing to her now in his impudent manner.

For the past several weeks, he’d been insisting that she had developed… less-than-platonic feelings for her animated roommate.

It was maddening.

Wednesday, of course, denied all accusations and vowed to de-nail him if he persisted.

Only in the most desolate corners of her mind could Wednesday concede that Enid plagued her. Constantly.

The way her cropped hair fell into her piercing eyes. How it took an absurd amount of restraint for Wednesday not to reach out and pin the colorful strands behind her ear. The sound of her laugh, all airy, full of light, and so often at Wednesday’s expense. How the noise alone should have incensed her, but inexplicably didn’t. The apparent softness of her obscenely pink lips. How Wednesday privately yearned to touch them, to feel them pressed against her mouth, her neck—

No. She couldn’t feel that way.

Not for Enid. Not for anyone. After Tyler…

Someone slammed the door to the coffee shop. The tinny bells signaling their entrance grated on Wednesday’s eardrums like knives across pavement. Her eyes shot open.

Miserably, she surveyed the incoming crowd.

“We’re leaving. Now,” Wednesday said. Her typically placid voice was now low and gravelly. She glared at Enid through her bangs.

Enid was visibly troubled, watching Wednesday with her eyebrows creased and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Wednesday felt another wave of emotion course through her. Her eyes pinched into a wince.

“Okay. Yeah, let’s go,” Enid said softly, which Wednesday was silently grateful for. She wasn’t sure how much more harsh noise she could take.

As they exited the booth, there was a moment when Wednesday thought she might require assistance to stand. She was lightheaded; her body shook with a slight tremor. Wednesday inwardly scolded herself, forcing herself to her feet. But she got up too quickly, and had to take a second to steady herself against the table.

Enid noticed. (Of course, she noticed.) She’d moved forward, arms extended imperceptibly toward Wednesday as if to catch her if she should collapse.

Mixed emotions of resentment, shame, and appreciation welled up within Wednesday. She dismissed them all in favor of trudging to the door, shoving past a young couple in her way, who shot her disgruntled looks. She couldn’t be less bothered.

Wednesday instantly felt a modicum of relief when they stepped outside, moving away from the large group of people that were congregating inside The Weathervane. But the smallest of sounds still made her muscles seize and her heart stutter. She endeavored to minimize the visibility of her symptoms to avoid having to answer to Enid, though she surmised that it would be an unfortunate inevitability.

Slowly, the pair made their way back to their dormitory. And unfortunately, Wednesday failed to suppress the unease that was overwhelming her inside.

By the time they arrived at their dorm room, Wednesday was visibly shaking. Enid hadn’t said a word the entire walk back, but Wednesday could tell she was exercising some serious self-control for her sake. If Wednesday wasn’t so unstable, she might be impressed.

Once inside, Wednesday perched gingerly on the edge of her bed. Enid remained unmoving in the middle of their room, watching her.

But Wednesday couldn’t meet her eyes. Her gaze was glued to her roommate’s yellow Converse high-tops.

Wednesday’s hands shook relentlessly. Her fists were a ghastly white against the material of her black jeans where she clenched them repeatedly.

Several tense moments passed. Enid’s claws constantly extended and retracted themselves.

Then, Wednesday heard Enid inhale. She held the breath for a few seconds before releasing it in a sigh. She took a few steps forward and broke the stillness.

“Was that—are you okay?” Enid said gently, and the immensity of her concern was shocking to Wednesday. Her heart was incapacitated, unnerved. A wild beast in an iron cage.

It was constricting in a most claustrophobic manner. She would bask in the sensation if it wasn’t so alarming.

“Enid,” Wednesday began, if only to prevent her roommate from saying something else that might rattle her further.

A war waged itself inside Wednesday. She was rarely conflicted about anything, usually immovable in herself and her decisions, so it was disturbing to experience such insecurity now.

Wednesday wanted to push Enid away. To hurt her for making her feel so exposed.

But the softer, more human part of Wednesday wanted so desperately to let go. To let her in.

Privately, Wednesday longed to lay her weapons at Enid’s feet, to express disquieting emotions and embrace the vulnerability that came with it. To allow the comfort her roommate would unequivocally provide.

It had taken Wednesday an exceptionally long time to accept the fact that, deep down, she trusted Enid. It took the wolf saving her from a murderous beast to come to terms with it. Still, she knew that trusting someone with your life was not the same as trusting them with your heart.

And Wednesday wasn’t prepared to bare herself to someone like that. But Enid took another step toward her.

“Wednesday,” she started. “I know you don’t like talking about your feelings, and I get that. Really. But I swear. If you ever told me anything… personal, you know, I would never judge you! I… I just want to help. Not because you’re, like, helpless, or anything! Because you’re not. You’re, like, so—“

“Too loud.” Wednesday needed to deflect before she released the thin thread she was holding onto and actually spilled her guts to her insufferably caring roommate.

“Right. Sorry,” Enid whispered. She paused before finally erasing the distance between them. To Wednesday’s horror (which somehow also resembled relief), she sat beside her and reached out to grab her hand.

But Enid waited before touching her. At her hesitation, Wednesday’s dark, unfocused eyes found her brighter, more secure ones.

As soon as Enid’s hand touched hers, Wednesday knew she was a lost cause.

The warmth was infectious. Beginning in the fingertips of the hand Enid was holding, it slowly crept up Wednesday’s arm, encompassing her shoulder, and filling her entire chest. The shaking grew less intense. She breathed in deeply; the resulting sigh made her sag in both exhaustion and contentment.

It was unconscious. Gradual. She leaned into Enid, pressing against her, shoulder-to-shoulder.

Wednesday’s resolve to remain untouchable melted in the face of Enid’s proximity.

Enid was warm. Wednesday felt her insides thaw and her anxiety subside as they sat there, Enid’s thumb tracing tiny patterns across Wednesday’s knuckles. And for once, without reluctance, she permitted herself to accept the comfort that was being offered so generously by her friend.

Her friend… yes, Enid was an adequate friend. She might even be more than adequate.

Wednesday felt her eyes slip closed as she reveled in the novelty of prolonged touch. The constant ringing that had flooded her ears since The Weathervane was finally fading. She registered the soft breathing that filled the room; the sound grounded her, causing her to subconsciously (and ever so lightly) lay her cheek against Enid’s shoulder.

Enid’s scent was one of jasmine and vanilla. Against her better judgement, Wednesday was lulled into a state of repose.

“Do you wanna lay down?” Enid’s whispered question startled Wednesday. Without realizing, she had been on the verge of falling asleep.

Embarrassed, she stiffened, straightening herself into a sitting position even as her body screamed in protest. Wednesday tried to shake the sudden neediness that had overcome her, but it would not budge.

“I… yes,” Wednesday conceded, attempting to obscure her flustered state from Enid by smoothing her jeans. But the exhaustion tugging at her bones was making it difficult for her to think straight, let alone mask her true feelings at the moment.

The lack of control frightened Wednesday.

An awkward amount of silence passed before she realized she was supposed to be moving. Carefully, Wednesday shuffled backwards on her bed, moving to lay down. She refused to look at Enid for fear of crumbling at the concern she would undoubtedly see in her eyes.

She was nearly comfortable (or, as comfortable as she could be with her face flushed and her heart pounding) when she felt something pull at her foot.

Instinctively, she recoiled, sitting up again.

Enid’s hands were frozen in mid-air, hovering over where Wednesday’s feet had just been.

“Sorry,” she apologized, her cheeks coloring. “I was just—I was gonna take your boots off.”

Wednesday was staring at her like she had grown an extra appendage.

“Why?” she asked. It sounded like an accusation.

“I…” Enid trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“I can do it myself,” Wednesday said. The indignation she was going for was undermined by the weariness creeping back into her voice.

It made her sound… soft.

How horrid.

“I know, I just…” Enid fell quiet again. She fiddled with a loose thread on her obnoxious sweater.

A beat of silence. Then, another.

Wednesday was trying to be patient. She really was.

“Words, Sinclair. I know you know how to use them.”

Perhaps it was not the most long-suffering response, but Wednesday relished in the sense of control the snark gave her. Besides, it acquired the desired result; Enid sighed in a most exasperated way, and was vomiting her words the next moment.

“I want to take care of you, okay? Is that, like, illegal, or something? I mean, is it so wrong for me to wanna help my best friend get comfortable after she had a really bad panic attack in the middle of town, even though she, like, never shows an ounce of emotion? Like, ever?! Just—God, Wednesday, you’re so… just let me take your fucking shoes off so you can take a fucking nap, for fuck’s sake!”

And just like that, Enid had yanked the rug from beneath her feet yet again, and Wednesday could only stare, barely breathing, at the girl beside her.

Enid’s chest was heaving and her face had gone a rosy pink. Her blue eyes, though burning with irritation, held a note of tenderness around the edges that only Wednesday could interpret.

Enid was sad.

It was evident in her posture. Her sagging shoulders, her crossed arms. The furrow of her brows, the way they creased upwards into an anxious frown. Her mouth, which revealed the subtle quiver of her bottom lip.

Maybe Wednesday was just exhausted. Maybe this was a moment of despair. Maybe she really was—Satan forbid it—going soft. But the image of Enid, her ceaselessly bubbly roommate, crestfallen over Wednesday not knowing how to be cared for during a moment of hardship…

It proved to be Wednesday’s undoing.

An unfamiliar burn in her eyes forced her to turn away from Enid in a quick motion. Her attempts to reel in the sudden onslaught of emotion were futile, and she could only stare resolutely at the wall, cursing the first traitor that escaped and ran rebelliously down her cheek.

She wanted to flee and hide. She wanted to scream in anger and frustration. She wanted Enid to leave, to at least give her the courtesy of being left alone to shame herself without an audience.

But none of those things happened. Instead, Wednesday stayed frozen in place, and Enid moved closer.

A jolt of panic shot through the smaller girl. She silently begged for Enid to stop, to get away from her. Wednesday was paralyzed by the thought of her roommate seeing the way her eyes were now streaming, the water, unbidden, racing down her neck, dampening her collar.

“Wednesday?” Enid’s voice was timid, unusual coming from her.

Wednesday couldn’t reply, terrified that her voice would shake, that she would be caught in such a compromising position. Her shoulders started to quake from the effort of suppressing the monsoon that was churning inside.

She was managing. Until Enid opened her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have shouted. I was just… I was frustrated. I’m sorry.“

Of all things, it was Enid’s unwarranted apology that dismantled Wednesday.

With an internal no!, her lungs hiccuped once, then again, and again, until small gasps were being stolen from her mouth in rapid succession.

One of her hands came up to shield her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the noise as she felt herself beginning to lose her bearings entirely.

Enid was upon her in a moment.

“Oh my god, Wens.” Enid’s hand landed on her shoulder, tentative and featherlight. “Shit—can I touch you? Is that okay?”

At this point, Wednesday knew it was pointless trying to hide. Enid knew. She saw her contemptible display of weakness. There was no reversing it, now.

For better or worse, Wednesday turned into Enid’s embrace.

She did so hastily, not wishing for Enid to see her crumpled face, which she promptly buried in the space between her roommate’s shoulder and neck.

Enid didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Wednesday. In soothing motions, she began to run her hands up and down her back. Like sorcery, the movement softened her body, turning her limp in Enid’s arms.

But Wednesday went rigid the next moment when her gasps turned into vocal cries.

Her breath hitched as she tried to shove down the mortifying noises. In an effort to ground herself, her hands shot from their position around herself to clench Enid’s sweater in a vice-grip.

God, she was pathetic. She was supposed to be immovable. Unshakable. But here she was, stuttering and sniveling like an infant. Clutching her roommate because she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, of being without her.

Wednesday wanted Enid to stay. The realization was laughably overwhelming.

She wasn’t repelled by Enid. She didn’t get flushed in her presence because of any kind of aversion to her. She liked being with Enid. Garishness and all.

And in this moment, Wednesday was in anguish for her.

Enid flooded her mind, her heart, her very soul. Wednesday wrapped herself tightly around the other girl.

It was unstoppable. Perhaps inevitable. That she would feel such soul-shattering desperation for another. That Enid would be the one who would consume her whole. That she’d be her weakness, her Achilles heel.

“Wednesday, breathe.”

Enid’s voice was distant. Wednesday‘s vision was dark.

Her lungs inflated with a sharp gasp. And then she was falling, plummeting, trying to hold on to herself, to not lose control, but everything was crashing down on her at once, and she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t—

“Wens,” Enid barely murmured into her ear, and Wednesday burst, splintering into a thousand tiny shards.

Years of pent up emotion gushed out of her in heaving sobs. She clawed blindly at Enid’s back, pressing her face harshly into her collarbone. She was beyond panicked. Even as she felt the relief that came with the release, she resisted.

“It’s okay,” Enid murmured repetitively, stroking the back of her head, her neck, her spine.

“No!” Wednesday exclaimed into Enid’s shoulder. It was certainly not okay. Nothing about this was okay. “No, no, no—”

She was sobbing the words now, over and over and over again. But they came out disjointed, staccato. Unintelligible. And Enid was rocking her, and she was shrinking, infinitesimal, and she was hating every second of it, hating herself. She’d never craved death more than now, in this despicable moment.

“Wednesday, stop fighting it. Just let go,” Enid pleaded. “Let go, Wens.”

“Can’t,” Wednesday cried, her voice catching in the middle of the word.

“Please.”

“En—I—“

“It’s just me,” Enid said, so gently. “It’s only me. You can let go.”

And like she had been needing permission, Wednesday let go.

Sitting on her bed in Enid’s arms, Wednesday cried. She cried like she hadn’t cried in years. Maybe forever. Losing Nero had hurt, but she hadn’t had years of repressed emotion and latent trauma to deal with then.

No, she was not crying now because of a random panic attack. She was mourning everything.

Her father’s arrest. Eugene’s coma. Thing’s attack. Crackstone’s dagger in her stomach, twisting. Tyler’s claws around her throat, gripping. Enid’s face—her face, bloody and marred and caked with dirt…

The sobs wracked her body, and she was unable to do much else other than hold onto Enid.

Enid, who was warm and solid. Who was running her hand down her back, cradling her head, murmuring soft words of comfort in her ear, her summery breath heating the skin of her neck.

Wednesday didn’t know how long the outburst lasted, but when it was over, she was drained.

Her breath stuttered at odd intervals as she came down, her body unused to such extended displays of emotion. Enid continued to hold her, swaying her slowly, and Wednesday was too bone-weary to even consider withstanding it.

Now that it was over, Wednesday’s mind was clearer. She breathed in deep and evaluated.

She was… lighter. Definitely more stable, and not panicked. Still exhausted, but no longer from the effort of restraining herself. It was the kind of exhaustion that was both physical and mental, but gave way for feelings of completion. Contentment.

But Wednesday couldn’t deny the lingering anxiety she felt over what came next. She wasn’t used to feeling like an open wound—especially not in front of someone else. She was at a loss for how to deal with the aftermath.

So when Enid started to pull away (much too soon), Wednesday kept her face tucked securely into the sheltering darkness of Enid’s shoulder.

It was, without a doubt, the most cowardly thing she had ever done.

“Wednesday,” Enid began, her voice impossibly soft. It made Wednesday’s heart hammer, spreading warmth into her limbs. “Let me see you.”

Wednesday tugged at Enid’s sweater like a petulant child. She couldn’t control her own actions. It was humiliating.

“We can’t stay like this forever.”

Wednesday’s stomach lurched.

She didn’t think she could do this.

For Lucifer’s sake—she’d faced more than one homicidal monster in her lifetime, endured torture, and almost died on several occasions.

But she could not face her friend right now. Not after what she’d seen. What she’d heard. She could not.

“I know you’re—I know this… isn’t easy for you, Wens. But I meant what I said earlier. You know, about not judging you. You’re safe with me. And you don’t have to be embarrassed, okay?”

Enid’s words registered like they were spoken in a foreign language. When they finally landed, Wednesday felt that same prickling heat flood her.

Enid was single-handedly making Wednesday lose the frigid edge that made her so formidable.

It was thoroughly irritating.

She took a moment to steel herself. She tried breathing deeply once, twice, then again before finally wrenching herself away from Enid.

Wednesday sat rigid, her arms encircling her torso in some last-ditch effort to soothe herself. She stared fixedly at her black satin duvet, working to keep her face free of emotion.

Her bangs were mussed, her mascara smeared, and her cheeks burning. She knew she looked a complete wreck. She certainly felt like one.

Enid’s hands twitched in Wednesday’s peripheral. She seemed to debate with herself about something before reaching out to touch Wednesday’s face.

It took all of her willpower not to flinch. She wasn’t sure she succeeded, though, because Enid hesitated one last time before the pads of her fingers were carefully brushing the fringe away from her eyes.

Wednesday’s face erupted into flames at the delicate touch. She hugged herself tighter, drawing blood on the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to do something idiotic like start crying again.

But when Enid’s thumbs began to smooth away the leftover tears beneath Wednesday’s eyes, the shame became too much.

“Enid,” she said. Or, she tried to. Her voice was gone, so her name came out in a broken whisper.

“Yeah?” She was cradling Wednesday’s face in one of her palms, using her knuckles to make the mascara tracks disappear. Wednesday swallowed past the perpetual lump in her throat.

“Don’t pity me. Please.”

Wednesday loathed pleading. But she was so desperate for it to stop, she didn’t know what else to do.

Enid halted her ministrations, and the human part of Wednesday regretted opening her mouth at all.

“Wednesday, I’m not—this isn’t pity,” Enid said, a quiet indignation in her voice. “I don’t pity you. I care about you.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a difference.”

Wednesday could almost hear Enid’s eye-roll.

“Come on, don’t do that. I’m trying to make you feel better,” Enid said in that unbearably soft way of hers. Wednesday’s heart throbbed in her throat.

“Hey,” Enid murmured, tucking a longer strand of Wednesday’s bangs behind her ear. “Can you look at me?”

Wednesday remained perfectly still, even if the skin was tingling fiercely where Enid’s touch had grazed it.

“Please?”

“Enid.” Wednesday didn’t mean to inflect her name with so much emotion. But she had been doing a lot of things she hadn’t meant to do today. She shifted anxiously.

“Wednesday—“

“Please don’t make me. I can’t—“

Wednesday’s sentence was cut short by the festering knot of shame that had been building in her throat since The Weathervane.

She couldn’t believe she was begging. Again. It was repulsive.

Even worse, she felt a telltale burn. Hadn’t she cried enough? Tearing her face from Enid’s hold, she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, using every ounce of dignity and self-control she had left to prevent any more tears.

“Okay, okay,” Enid placated. “I’m not gonna make you. I just—I just wanted to see your eyes. That’s all.”

“Why?” Wednesday’s tone was nearing frustration. Enid was confusing her. She was confusing herself.

“Because I wanna know that you’re okay.”

There was a tense silence.

“I’m fine.” Wednesday’s retort was visceral.

“I don’t think you are,” Enid said, her weight on the bed shifting. Her leg came to rest against Wednesday’s.

Wednesday felt slighted. Like she had been tricked, her wits outmatched.

It infuriated her, the lack of the upper-hand. She was inclined to say things she didn’t mean.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think, you stupid mutt. I’m fine.”

Wednesday rarely used vulgarity, but her normally inexhaustible arsenal of insults was nonexistent due to her current state. This left her with the less desirable option of spewing the ugliest language she could think of without forethought and hoping that it hit its mark.

It was the worst she could do at the moment, and she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. But her pride refused to take them back.

Enid was still for a long time. Wednesday could almost imagine that she had disappeared.

The thought left her empty.

“You know,” Enid began quietly. “I would actually believe you meant that if I hadn’t just held you for twenty minutes while you cried.”

Wednesday bristled. She couldn’t resist removing her hands from her face to send Enid the most lethal glare she could muster.

It faltered as soon as she met her gaze.

Enid’s features were soft, no trace of malice or anger to be detected. She looked fatigued, and the raw compassion in her eyes was enough to make Wednesday want to look away again. But this time, she held her ground, though her harsh stare melted like snow in flame.

Enid searched her eyes, and it occurred to Wednesday that she had given her exactly what she wanted.

So. Enid could be cunning. Wednesday made a mental note.

“You can’t pretend that it didn’t happen, Wednesday.”

“What good does acknowledging it do?”

Wednesday’s tone was still hard, but she could feel herself melting at the way Enid was being so patient with her.

Damn her and her emotional maturity.

Enid sighed, boldly reaching out to grab one of Wednesday’s hands. She pulled it into her lap and started fidgeting with the steel rings that decorated her fingers.

Wednesday just stared, wondering if she would ever feel cold again.

“Acknowledging is the first step to accepting.”

“I would rather not.”

“Oh my god, Wens, have you learned nothing from this?” Enid chided. “Bottling up everything just leads to breakdowns. And—well, you just had a pretty big one.”

Wednesday flushed. Enid saved her.

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about! If therapy’s taught me anything, it’s that it’s healthy to cry. It’s true,” Enid insisted at Wednesday’s deepening scowl. “Well, it’s better if you don’t wait, like, forever, you know. I mean, you told me last semester that you hadn’t cried since you were six. That’s, like, ten years, Wednesday. So all things considered, really, I think you’re doing great right now for not having cried for a whole decade.”

Wednesday worked her jaw, dissecting her words.

“I’ve made a fool of myself,” she said quietly.

“No,” Enid argued, her voice thick with emotion. “No, you haven’t.”

“Enid, I have never allowed myself to behave so… expressively in front of someone else before. Not even my own mother.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Enid said simply, her palm white-hot against the back of Wednesday’s hand. It was starting to distract her. She huffed.

“I’ve jeopardized myself by openly displaying such vulnerability,” Wednesday attempted to explain. “You will undoubtedly see me differently now.”

“Well, yeah. I used to think you were, like, an emotionless brick wall. Now I’ve seen you experience pain just like everyone else,” Enid said. Despite her reassuring tone, her words filled Wednesday with dread. “But that doesn’t ‘jeopardize’ you. It just makes you human.”

“Yes,” Wednesday agreed, perplexed and more than a little frustrated by Enid’s obtuseness.

“Wednesday,” Enid sighed loudly, like Wednesday was the exasperating one. “I know you, like, make it your life’s mission to act like nothing ever bothers you, but we both know that’s not true. And it doesn’t matter to me that you’re not invincible. Honestly? I like you better like this.”

“Pathetic? Disgraceful? The embodiment of shame itself?”

“I was going to say free,” Enid interjected softly.

“Oh.”

That warm thing was happening again; it settled in her cheeks this time. Wednesday suddenly found her duvet very compelling.

“Free is not… a necessarily repulsive thing to be.”

“It was a compliment, yes. Glad you got that.”

She met Enid’s smiling eyes through her bangs. Wednesday’s heart did a small flip.

Slowly, she interlaced their fingers, still holding Enid’s gaze. It flickered with something indiscernible, gone in a second.

“Enid,” she began after a particularly charged moment. “I would appreciate it if you… refrained from—from broadcasting to others what has transpired between us today.”

Enid’s eyebrows creased. Wednesday had the sudden urge to smooth out the wrinkle with her thumb.

Interesting.

“Do you really think I would do that?” Enid’s voice was pinched, as if she were in pain. Wednesday disliked it immediately.

“You have a penchant for gossip,” she responded, feeling as though her apprehension was justified.

“Not that kind of gossip!” Enid said in a high-pitched tone.

“There are different types?” Wednesday asked, the corners of her mouth quirking downwards. She hardly bothered with understanding such banal constructs as gossip.

“Wednesday, I would never—like, ever—spread gossip about something so personal. I mean… some people do, and that’s, like… it’s just messed up to do something like that. You can literally destroy someone’s life! My kind of gossip doesn’t go past, like, crushes. Or fashion. I would never—God, did you really think—?”

Enid trailed off, looking at her with heartbreak in her eyes. Wednesday blinked.

“It would be the perfect revenge,” she supplied meekly, not believing that she was willingly giving her roommate ideas.

Enid scoffed. “Revenge? For what?”

They stared at each other, Enid’s eyes searching Wednesday’s uncharacteristically subdued ones. A light went off.

“Wednesday,” Enid said, sounding breathless. “Are you talking about last year?”

She was unresponsive for a long moment, silently calculating. Why must Enid be so imperceptive sometimes?

“I never apologized for deceiving you. Until now, you haven’t had anything of substance to use against me.”

“Is that seriously how you think relationships work?“

“Relationships?”

“Yeah, relationships. You know, like the one we have,” Enid said, gesturing between them. “We’re friends, Wednesday! I’m not going to use your ‘moment of weakness,’ as you call it—which, it isn’t even weakness, it’s just fucking emotion, and that’s not a crime, you know! To feel something for once!—I’m not gonna use that to get back at you for something I already forgave you for!”

Wednesday blinked twice. Her mind raced.

Enid deflated, opening her mouth to say something more, but Wednesday shocked them both into silence.

“I’m sorry, Enid.”

The werewolf’s jaw went slack.

Wednesday was confounded by how easy the apology came. Furthermore, she was baffled by how much she meant it. Maybe she had been undeniably altered in the aftermath of her breakdown, and that was why she was being so voluntarily open. But the most disturbing part of all was not that she was choosing to be vulnerable with Enid, but rather, that the vulnerability itself didn’t feel as revolting as it did previously.

It felt… freeing.

So she kept talking.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you. For putting your life at risk without providing you with a decision first. I’m sorry for my aloofness, as well as for my tendency to discount your feelings. I never intended to bring you harm, but I recognize that my large incapacity for relational affairs has rendered me useless in most situations that involve your needs and desires. Most of all, I’m sorry for failing to… trust you. I know now that you, as my… friend, do not wish to see me suffer—as much as I might enjoy it, at times. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would use my weak—my vulnerability against me.”

Enid’s eyes had continued to widen as Wednesday was speaking. Wednesday’s lips twitched.

“Is that all?” Enid asked faintly.

Wednesday considered.

“I’m sorry for saying that I don’t care what you think. And for calling you a stupid mutt.”

Something extraordinary happened to Wednesday when Enid’s face broke out into the widest smile she’d ever seen.

She felt like a ball of light had exploded inside her chest—and she welcomed it.

“All is forgiven, roomie,” Enid practically crooned. Both of her hands tugged Wednesday’s trapped one to her chest, holding it there.

Wednesday finally let the warmth overtake her. She wet her lips, thinking carefully about what she was about to say. She willed herself to meet Enid’s eyes.

“Enid?” she began tentatively.

“Yes?” her roommate answered, slightly breathless.

“Thank you. For not… judging me.”

If possible, Enid’s features softened even further. She tilted her head, a blonde lock falling across her cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Wednesday. I’ll always be here for you. Judgment free.”

Wednesday took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She just nodded.

They sat in comfortable silence, their fingers tracing each other’s lazily, until Enid finally got restless.

“Can I take your makeup off?” she piped up, a smile brightening her eyes.

Wednesday raised her eyebrows.

“I mean—just, your mascara… it’s kind of,” Enid gestured to her face. “Everywhere.”

Wednesday colored, feeling embarrassed before she remembered she didn’t have to anymore.

She cleared her throat, tilting her chin up in a show of false confidence.

“I will allow it.”

Enid squealed, and before Wednesday could protest, she was pulling her to her feet and toward the bathroom.

Wednesday would have been disgruntled if it weren’t for the sound of Enid’s laugh ringing in her ears.

Chapter Text

Enid was giddy. (At least, way more than usual.)

She couldn’t help it. Her broody roomie was finally in a semi-soft mood. In the last hour, she’d gotten to hold Wednesday’s hand, hug her (for a long ass time, too), and now she was letting her take her makeup off! (Which was basically the most soft thing, like, ever.) It was an all around win as far as Enid was concerned.

It may have taken a mental breakdown and several begrudging confessions for Wednesday to get there, but that was besides the point. Enid was just happy that she’d finally managed to wriggle her way through one of the invisible cracks in Wednesday’s “forbidding, blackened heart.” (The goth’s words, not hers.)

Enid considered any physical contact with her touch-averse roommate something to celebrate. She tried not to appear too over the moon about it, though. She wasn’t quite ready for Wednesday to know about her… infatuation.

Yeah, okay. Enid had a massive crush. And yeah, she knew Wednesday would probably paint her nails hot pink and wear glitter before even considering being with someone like Enid. After all, they were polar opposites. Was it even possible for them to work…?

But no matter how many times she told herself that nothing would ever happen between them, Enid couldn’t help but hope for something more.

She’d fallen. Mega-hard. And so very impossibly far. For a girl who was allergic to color and wore a permanent pout.

Basically? She was doomed.

But whether Wednesday acknowledged it or not, something had changed between them today. There would be no turning back now.

Enid knew about her friend’s tendency to close herself off and retreat when things got too personal, so she was fully prepared to drag Wednesday by her braids if she even thought about ignoring the progress they’d made together today.

So there.

When the pair made it to the bathroom, Enid became suddenly aware of how real Wednesday’s hand felt in her own.

“So, um,” Enid started. She turned to face the shorter girl, her heart skipping a beat at the dark eyes studying her. “You can just…” she trailed off, her hand gesturing to the counter space next to the sink.

Wednesday stared, nonplussed.

With an inward sigh, Enid realized she’d have to be a little more straight-forward.

“Could you sit on the counter? It’ll be easier that way.”

“Oh,” was all the raven-haired girl said. But she didn’t move.

Enid raised her eyebrows, taking in the way Wednesday’s were furrowed in… concentration? Irritation? Enid was about as good at reading her friend’s expressions as she was at taxidermy.

But she did notice some subtle tells, like how her hands clenched at her sides, and how she chewed the inside of her cheek. It was then that Enid realized she was nervous.

Shit. How could Enid be so thoughtless?

“Look, Wednesday. We don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to. Or—or you can just stand, and I’ll—“

“No,” Wednesday cut Enid off. She placed her hand on the countertop, meeting the wolf’s eyes with a quiet determination. “I… want to do this. With you.”

The way Wednesday was talking about this, it sounded like she was letting Enid do something… far more intimate than just taking her makeup off.

Enid fought down a blush, and gave her a warm smile.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wednesday muttered before hoisting herself onto the counter with such deftness it was annoying. Enid busied herself with finding the makeup-removal wipes and a washcloth, along with some skincare products.

The whole time, she felt Wednesday watching her in that intense way she was used to. But it felt heightened now, like every move she made was being analyzed. It almost made her feel like one of Wednesday’s gory dissections. She shivered.

When Enid turned back to her, she froze.

God, she was stunning. It actually took her breath away.

Her posture was perfect where she sat on the edge of the counter. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, unmoving. At this level, she was slightly taller than Enid, and had to tilt her chin down instead of upwards, like she normally did. The new angle made the werewolf’s heart catch in her throat.

But what really flustered Enid was Wednesday’s face.

It was how her plum-colored lipstick was smudged at the corner of her mouth, revealing the pinker tint of her lips. How her freckles were vivid against her pale complexion, scattering across her delicate nose and cheekbones. And her eyeliner, smeared below her eyes, which were usually midnight black but were now a deep brown. They locked onto Enid, trapping her.

She must’ve looked really, really dumb because Wednesday actually asked if she was okay.

The threat of embarrassment brought Enid to her senses.

“Sorry. I just—zoned out for a sec,” she said with a nervous laugh. “ADHD.”

Wednesday hummed, but her lips were pursed in a way that meant she was trying to figure something out. Before Enid could do something absolutely insane like kiss the stupid pout off her face, she looked away, messing with the package of wipes.

She took a subtle, steadying breath. And with a lot more bravery than she felt, Enid stepped into the small space between Wednesday’s legs and brought the towelette to her face. She hesitated only to search her friend’s eyes for the go-ahead.

Wednesday nodded, and Enid thought she heard her breath hitch when she leaned in a little closer.

Her imagination ran wild at the noise before she forced herself to stay calm.

Calm. Zen. This was easy, right?

Wrong. It was extremely hard. Like, almost impossible. Because Wednesday was just breathtaking like this.

Enid was enraptured by the way her eyelids fluttered just slightly as she carefully erased the mascara tracks from her face. And the way she parted her lips just barely when Enid was removing her lipstick, and how she was looking down at her, watching her so intently—all of it was making Enid’s heart do cartwheels inside her rib-cage. So not zen.

Enid wasn’t used to being this close to Wednesday for so long. It was addicting, and she knew it wouldn’t last forever, so she tried to take it all in at once, to memorize every detail.

Being allowed to care for Wednesday like this, to touch her face, her lips—even platonically, it felt sacred.

But Enid had to be real. Nothing about this was platonic.

She figured she was only getting away with it because of Wednesday’s major lack of experience when it came to romantic relationships. The fact she’d only ever been with Tyler (gag!), and Enid was her only close girl friend… well. She probably didn’t know what this meant.

Like, sorry, but this was gay as fuck. Textbook sapphic behavior, actually.

“Why are you smiling?” Wednesday’s voice brought her out of her head. Enid flushed.

“Oh—it’s nothing,” Enid said in a rush. She moved to Wednesday’s eyeshadow, her free hand coming up to frame the side of her face for stability.

Mhm. For stability.

“Nothing?” Wednesday asked, and Enid could’ve sworn her tone was almost teasing.

“Well—I mean, I’m happy, so…” Enid deflected, pretending to focus on removing the leftover mascara from Wednesday distractingly long eyelashes. “I guess I was smiling because of that.”

Wednesday studied her with one eye.

“You’re happy.” It was a statement. But Enid could hear the disbelief beneath the monotone. It made her heart hurt.

“Of course, I’m happy. I’m with you,” she said without thinking. But she couldn’t regret it when the tension left Wednesday’s shoulders. Almost like she was relieved.

Enid tried not to dwell on it. (She definitely dwelt on it.)

A semi-comfortable silence came over them as Enid finished up with the makeup wipes. She moved to dampen the washcloth beneath the faucet, and feigned nonchalance as she lathered the cleanser.

Because Enid could feel it. She wondered if Wednesday noticed it, too. The unspoken tension simmering just below the surface of… whatever this was that was happening between them.

When Enid returned to Wednesday’s face, washcloth in hand, she accidentally bumped her knee with her elbow. It made Wednesday tense, and for a split second, her leg squeezed around Enid’s waist.

It happened so fast she was sure she’d imagined it. But as she began to gently wash the shorter girl’s face, she noticed two blotches of color that weren’t there before.

Okay, yeah. Something gay was definitely happening here.

Enid’s mouth quirked, but she knew Wednesday wouldn’t catch it because of her (pointedly) averted gaze.

It was exhilarating—having this effect on her normally unshakable roommate. She felt like pushing a little.

As Enid leaned over to rinse the washcloth, her torso pressed firmly into Wednesday’s thigh; the taller girl heard her suck in a breath and hold it.

The blush on Wednesday’s face was very obvious now. Even her neck was flushed; the color only deepened when Enid continued to clean her face.

The goth’s gaze stayed trained on Enid’s sweater even after she was finished.

“You’re so pretty like this, Wens,” Enid sighed, not resisting the urge to lightly brush her bangs away from her eyes.

She couldn’t find it within herself to be embarrassed. Not when Wednesday’s face turned an even darker shade of red.

“Enid,” Wednesday said, her voice floating, cloud-like, so impossibly soft that Enid could’ve swooned. She rested her hands on the rough material of Wednesday’s black jeans.

“Wednesday,” Enid said, equally as soft. She was smiling like an idiot when Wednesday met her eyes.

The brown of her irises had given way to obsidian, and Enid’s breath caught in her throat.

She should’ve known that teasing Wednesday would come back to bite her in the ass.

There was a thick silence that was only broken by the sound of their breathing. Enid’s eyes flicked to Wednesday’s mouth, then back to her eyes, but hers were now trained on Enid’s mouth, and oh shit, Wednesday was staring at her mouth, and she looked like she was about to lean in, wait—yes, she was definitely leaning in, and then they were both leaning in, closer and closer like there was some kind of stupid gay magnetic pull, and—

“Oh my god—the moisturizer!” she blurted, huffing a nervous laugh. “Duh! It’s like, the most important part. Hold on, let me just… uh…”

Wednesday froze, her gaze lowering again, and it was almost like nothing had happened. But her breathing was a little more labored now, and oh god, Enid was totally going to freak out and smash their faces together if she didn’t apply this stupid fucking moisturizer right the fuck now.

With shaking hands (which she promptly ignored), she dotted the product across Wednesday’s face.

Yeah, no. This wasn’t helping things.

Her cheeks, her chin, her forehead, her nose—god, how were all of her features so flawless? And her skin was so clear, it was literally distressing. And it wasn’t helping Enid’s state. Like, at all. Neither was the warmth of Wednesday’s breath on her palms as she lightly massaged the moisturizer into her skin.

What in the sapphic fantasy—

Wednesday’s eyes locked onto hers again, and Enid was, by all accounts, a puddle. She was barely breathing by the time she was finished, and her heart felt like it was going a bazillion miles an hour, which just made her even more flustered than she already was, and she was trembling and fidgety and she couldn’t think straight (pun definitely intended), and somehow her hands found themselves framing Wednesday’s face, holding it, and they were just staring at each other, and it lasted so long, and Enid felt like she could do this for hours, for days, maybe even, like, for forever, and she’d never get sick of it—

“Enid?”

A breath.

“Yeah?”

A beat.

“I want to kiss you. Is that absurd?”

Enid’s brain went on autopilot.

“No,” she said, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t absurd, actually. Nope, nope, nope. In fact, it was the sanest thing she had ever heard. The smartest, most logical thing that could possibly happen—

“Yes, it is.”

Panic.

“What? W-why?”

“Because… you’re my friend.”

Relief.

“That doesn’t—I don’t have to be.”

“What?”

“I don’t—we don’t have to be just friends. If you want something more, we… we could…”

“We could what?”

“We—you know!”

“I… don’t, Enid.”

A sigh.

“Wednesday.”

“Yes?”

“Just—help me out here.”

“What do you need assistance with?”

“You literally know.”

“Know what? I’m—“

“God!”

“Enid—”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Another beat.

“I… like to think I am quite persuasive, actually.”

Enid squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head. She took one deep breath. Then another. She met Wednesday’s eyes again, this time with purpose.

Her friend looked as oblivious as ever, with her eyebrows all crinkled and her mouth all pursed.

It was. Fucking. Adorable.

“Wednesday Addams.”

“Yes, Enid Sinclair?”

“Just kiss me already.”

It was the first time she had ever caught Wednesday totally off guard. Her eyes went wide, eyebrows disappearing beneath her bangs and lips parting, just a little, which (of course) immediately drew Enid’s eyes to them.

She was literally desperate at this point, embarrassingly so, but she shoved down the impulse to slam herself into Wednesday’s face, and instead waited for her to make the first move.

She couldn’t risk scaring her away. Not when they were so close…

But Wednesday was taking her sweet time, and god, it was driving Enid insane. But she couldn’t complain, not really, because Wednesday’s eyes were heavy-lidded and pitch-black as they trailed over Enid’s face, her cheeks, down the slope of her nose, and stopped at her lips. Her fingers tangled loosely with Enid’s, dragging them to her waist.

Enid took the hint and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Wednesday’s perfect little waist, pulling her flush against her, front-to-front.

And Enid was sure she was going to have some kind of aneurysm, because Wednesday’s legs were locking around her torso, tight, so there was almost no room between them, and her hands were brushing Enid’s hair away from her face, skimming her jaw and framing her neck, her thumbs pressing firmly against her pulse point.

They were so close, Enid could feel warm puffs of breath against her upper lip. She could feel the slow rhythm of the smaller girl’s lungs, which contrasted greatly with the shallow stutter of her own.

Enid’s hands clenched reflexively around the material of Wednesday’s checkered cable knit sweater. And she couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but tilt her chin up, just barely, a hopeful, eager invitation—

And finally, Wednesday put her out of her misery.

Wednesday’s lips were full, and shockingly warm. Enid’s eyes slipped shut, and she sighed, her whole body melting into the kiss.

With a rush of clarity, Enid realized she’d been waiting her whole life for this. This perfect, perfect moment.

Instinctively, her arms tightened around Wednesday, wanting to bring her closer. Enid felt greedy. Like no matter how much time she spent kissing her, it would never be enough. But with an admirable amount of self-control, Enid restrained herself. She wanted Wednesday to be as comfortable as possible, and right now… she was a little stiff.

Her mouth was frozen on Enid’s, her hands rigid against her neck in a manner so statuesque that Enid worried she wasn’t enjoying it at all.

In an effort to help her relax, Enid moved her hands slowly up and down her back, like she had earlier during her panic attack. After a moment or two, it had the desired effect, and the tension gradually left Wednesday’s body.

She sighed through her nose, pressing herself a little more firmly into Enid. Enid hummed, content, and started to slowly lead the kiss.

This really was some kind of cliche sapphic fantasy, because Enid swore that their lips fit together perfectly. It made the wolf in her want to howl.

As they kissed, Wednesday got more confident. The fingers on Enid’s neck climbed into her hair, tangling themselves in the blonde, color-streaked strands, and cradling her head. And eventually, Wednesday parted her lips (tentatively at first, then more sure of herself) and deepened the kiss.

If Wednesday’s lips were warm, her mouth was hot.

Enid’s knees turned to jell-o when their tongues made contact for the first time, and a surge of passion overcame her. Her hand came up to cup the side of Wednesday’s face as she kissed her. Hard. So hard that Wednesday had to suddenly brace herself with one hand behind her on the counter.

She didn’t mean to be so forceful (she blamed her werewolf strength), but Wednesday seemed to like it, judging by the way she gasped and sunk her teeth into Enid’s bottom lip. But she still didn’t want to go too fast. She wanted to savor this, to worship this amazing, incredible, gorgeous girl that was in her arms right now. It was what she deserved.

And it took a fuck-ton of willpower not to cross that line. Enid felt like she was holding on by a thread.

A thin, thin thread that almost snapped entirely when Wednesday grasped the front of Enid’s sweater, and her fingers slipped just below the collar, grazing the sensitive skin there. And when she arched her back, legs tightening around her, and pressed herself further into Enid, sighing into her mouth, tangling their tongues—

Deep breaths, Enid.

Blindly, her hands reached for Wednesday’s, stilling them as she slowed them down, pressing short, close-mouthed kisses to her perfect lips. She lingered with the last one, and her eyes stayed closed as she pulled away, keeping less than an inch between them.

Enid’s eyes fluttered open to see Wednesday already watching her.

There were so many emotions on her face, more than Enid had ever seen, that she couldn’t tell at all what she was feeling, or thinking.

It scared her.

“Okay?” Enid asked, anxious that she had done something wrong without knowing it, something that had made her uncomfortable or pushed her too far.

When Wednesday didn’t immediately answer, Enid’s heart leapt in her throat.

“Wens?” She brushed away some hair that was stuck to her eyelashes, searching her face with a worried frown.

“Enid,” Wednesday finally breathed. Then, she shut her eyes and leaned against Enid’s forehead.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Enid whispered. With her thumbs, she traced slow patterns on Wednesday’s hands.

“I’m thinking…” Wednesday trailed off. She cleared her throat. “I’m thinking that should’ve been my first kiss.”

A relieved laugh escaped the werewolf. Her cheeks ached.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said, and the certainty in her voice warmed Enid to the bone. The goth pulled back to look at her.

Her eyes were like burning coals.

“So, it was good?” Enid couldn’t help but tease, but her breathlessness made her sound insecure.

“No,” she said, and Enid’s heart dropped into her stomach. But it was soaring the next second, when Wednesday said—

“‘Good’ is not a sufficient descriptor. I would substitute words like exemplary, or outstanding. Well, those aren’t quite...” She considered, and Enid watched in adoration how her eyebrows furrowed in thought, searching her mind for the perfect word.

Her eyes lit up.

“Phenomenal.”

“Our kiss was phenomenal,” Enid sighed dreamily, stretching her arms around Wednesday in utter oblivion, staring at her with what she was sure were the biggest heart-eyes imaginable.

But Wednesday shook her head.

“Not just… our kiss,” she clarified. Then her voice took on that addictive softness Enid had come to crave. “You.”

Oh god.

If she hadn’t been in love before, Enid definitely was now.

She could only stare, dumbstruck, trying to take in the fact that Wednesday—The Wednesday Addams, who never had anything remotely nice to say to anyone—thought she was phenomenal. Phenomenal! That was her favorite word now. It’d be her favorite word forever. Phenomenal. Phenomenal…

“Ohmygod—go out with me. Please?” Enid said in a rush. “We can go, like, anywhere you want. Like… a cemetery. Or a torture chamber! I dunno, something you’d like. And I don’t care if it’s gross, or scary, or—“

“Enid,” Wednesday interrupted her, and she was smiling.

Actually smiling. Like, dimples and everything. Wednesday had dimples. And her teeth!—

“Fuck—you’re so cute,” Enid blurted before she could stop herself. Wednesday’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t call me that.”

But Enid was over the moon. She couldn’t help it, she’d seen Wednesday smile at something not related to death or destruction! And she could tell by the way Wednesday was fighting to keep her face straight that she wasn’t really upset.

“Fine, you’re adorable. Go out with me?”

Wednesday pretended to think about it, pursing her lips in mock consideration, and all Enid could think about was kissing it off of her.

“I suppose… I will go on a romantic outing with you, Enid. But on one condition.”

“Literally anything.”

“You let me woo you properly,” she said, her eyes darkening even more if it was possible. “In traditional Addams family fashion.”

“Of course, yeah,” Enid breathed. This was the best day of her life. “What does that mean?”

Wednesday smirked.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

Enid’s squeal was muffled by Wednesday kissing her soundly.