Chapter Text
Enid hears the familiar puttering of Thing ambling about the room while she’s blinking at Wednesday’s phone screen that has now gone dark and left only her confused, mortified reflection in lieu of the photo of herself.
“Perfect timing,” she says upon coming out of her trance. She looks down at Thing, who’s been circling her feet like a loyal puppy. “Tell me where she is.”
I know nothing of her whereabouts, he tells her.
“You follow her everywhere like you’re her dog,” she says, pointedly glaring at him. “Don’t play these bullshit games with me like her. You’re better than that.”
I’m not the dog here, he taps out, and then he stands up on all his fingers and flexes his muscles. Enid knows that means he’s hesitating or thinking about what to say next.
“I’m not gonna hurt her. I would never,” Enid insists, crouching down to his level. “I just wanna talk to her. That’s all. You know I would never, not in a million years, hurt Wednesday. I know she’s probably mad at herself right now, and not gonna lie, I’m kinda ticked off with her about this whole thing, but I just wanna make this better so it’ll go away.”
Thing visibly relaxes for a moment but doesn’t say anything. Enid sits like that, half-crouched, half-squatting, until her legs give out, and then she sits on her butt with her legs curled up. She waits for Thing, albeit extremely impatiently, tapping her fingers on the dusty floorboards.
When Thing fails to say anything, Enid sighs and looks at him with a much softer facial expression. He notices, and in turn, he goes slack.
“Can you please tell me where she is?” Enid asks. “I’m not gonna yell or get mad. I just want to talk to her. You can come along if it’ll make you feel better.”
She just needs some time. She is upset with herself, he says.
Enid nods. “Yeah, I know she is. And I know the truth now, too. I can see why she’s mad at herself. I’m a little mad, too. I won’t hurt her or yell, though. I’d never do that to her. It hurt me so badly the first time I told her off. The look on her face before I left is, like, permanently burned into my head. She looked so sorry but couldn’t say it, and I wanted to prove a point by leaving. I was always gonna come back, even if you…you know. Even if all that didn’t happen.”
Thing does his version of a wince—by curling two fingers into his palm. Enid affectionately pats his wrist in apology, swallowing a hard lump in her throat.
She tries not to think about the night she left Wednesday. Every now and then, as she’s trying to sleep, she’ll see those big brown eyes filling with tears and the way Wednesday noticeably crumbled when Enid raised her voice at her. At first, Enid felt proud of herself for standing up to such a stubborn mule and leaving with her head held high and the promise of abandoning Wednesday for good, but once she made it to Yoko’s room, she completely crashed and didn’t stop crying until she found a reason to crawl her way back to Wednesday—with a few more boundaries in place between them, of course.
This feels different, though. Wednesday was the one to leave, and if Enid knows her, she’s probably laying in the fetal position atop a stranger’s freshly-dug grave or plucking the wings off a butterfly to soothe the angry ache of self-hatred. Or maybe she went out for a steaming coffee, as black as her heart, and is sipping on it as she contemplates murdering Enid so she won’t have to own up to her actions.
She told me everything, Thing taps, crawling into Enid’s inviting lap.
“Now let me tell you the truth,” says Enid.
No need to. She admitted to me that it was all her fault, he says.
Surprised, Enid blinks at him. “Really? Hm. Character development, I guess.” She chews her lip, sighing. “I’m so embarrassed. I told Willa—Wednesday—everything without knowing it was her. Even details I didn’t want her to know. I feel like she kinda invaded my privacy by pretending to be someone that doesn’t even exist. She really hurt my feelings, and I know that’s the Wednesday thing to do, but I thought we were getting somewhere with that. I kinda expected more from her, really. I care for her so much, and I thought that we were on the way to actually being best friends, if nothing else, and then she does this. And I know you’re gonna defend her because she’s your family and all that, but my feelings are really, really hurt, so if you could just spare me the defense and just—“
Thing taps her knee, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
“Sorry. Rambling again,” she says. “But still. I don’t want the huge ‘she just doesn’t understand’ speech. I get that. And I’m still allowed to be hurt by her actions.”
She understands that she was wrong. She is miserable right now.
“So she feels good, then. Got it,” Enid sourly mumbles. Thing gives her a disappointed look. “Sorry. I’m just upset. It’s totally valid.”
I understand how you feel. I, too, was once a young, handsome man in love with someone who had the communication skills of a toad.
Enid giggles. “Who did you fall in love with?”
A toad, he says.
Enid stops laughing just then, becoming serious as she sits up on her palms. “What?”
Anyway, he taps. I’ll tell you where she is, if you promise me that I can come along and you won’t shout at her. I say that for your safety, not hers. She has a knife, and it’s not to use on herself.
It’s an iffy promise to make when Wednesday Addams is involved, but nevertheless, Enid sticks out her pinkie finger and wraps it around Thing’s.
—
Wednesday isn’t good at running away, Enid surmises as she’s approaching Eugene’s Hummers hideaway positioned nicely under an alcove of trees behind Nevermore. It’s not far at all, which Enid finds herself grateful for when her legs start to hurt alongside her face from all the crying she’s done.
Humming and buzzing greets Enid, inviting her towards the lopsided shed that’s liable to come tumbling down the next time a storm blows into town. It’s Eugene’s safe place, though, and sometimes, Wednesday likes to crash here whenever things get a little too ridiculous to handle in Ophelia Hall.
Thing sits quietly on Enid’s shoulder, as Enid promised to allow him. If she had her way, she would’ve thwarted him and vetoed that idea, but she’s trying to compromise in an otherwise intransigent situation.
“Just let me talk to her,” Enid whispers to Thing, five feet from the shed. “If shit starts going wrong, you can intercept. She’ll listen to you.”
She has a knife, Thing warns.
“I know. You told me,” she replies, affectionately patting him. “And I’m not afraid of that pocketknife. I’ve got ten knives under my fingernails. Not that I’m expecting anything to go that far, but I’m just saying. What’s scarier; a werewolf, or a five-foot girl with a four-inch blade?”
She’ll call Wednesday’s bluff, because that’s a lot easier than dealing with the ramifications of laughing in her face and mocking the fact that she’s always armed with some sort of weaponry. Enid doesn’t doubt that Wednesday has a knife or something alike it, but she’s not going to intentionally provoke her.
She’s five-one, Thing corrects.
“Platforms don’t count for height,” Enid giggles, helping Thing off her shoulder and setting him at her feet. “Keep quiet. Don’t poke the bear and it won’t eat you.”
I should be telling you that, don’t ya think?
“Don’t be a smart ass,” she scolds, smoothing out her clothes. “Come on. Quietly. And if she stabs me, run and get Yoko.”
Thing salutes her in agreement, scuttling just behind Enid’s ankles.
Enid stands in front of the door, rolling her shoulders and taking in a big, sobering breath that hurts as it rushes into her lungs. She pushes the door open with a splintered groan, first poking her head inside and then emerging in full with Thing obediently following.
Wednesday is curled into a ball in one empty corner of the room, her knees drawn to her chin and her arms wound around them like she’s trying to protect her organs. She doesn’t immediately notice Enid or Thing, and then the door closes with more force than Enid intended, and she jumps out of her skin.
Enid doesn’t greet her or smile or do anything that would warrant a knife to the gut, but she does block the doorway, because no matter how secretive Wednesday might be, there is no getting out of here without conversation.
“You traitor,” Wednesday snarls at Thing. Her red-rimmed eyes narrow with hatred. “You told her everything, didn’t you?”
“No need for him to tell me anything, Willa,” Enid says. “I already know.”
Wednesday visibly recoils. “That’s not my name.”
“I know it’s not, but it’s the name you used to waste my time and troll me on the internet by pretending to be someone that doesn’t even exist,” Enid coolly says, shrugging despite the rage building inside of her when she remembers all the time and emotional energy she flushed down the toilet. “It’s fine, though. I just wanna talk.”
It’s not fine, but antagonizing Wednesday isn’t going to resolve anything. If Enid knows any better from the hours she’s spent reading questionable mental health articles, she knows that she needs to proceed with caution when she’s dealing with someone like Wednesday. She cannot place too much blame or point a finger—even the middle one, like she wants to.
If Enid is quiet enough, she can hear Wednesday sniffle, and good god does it almost have Enid scooping her up into her arms and telling her that she’s all forgiven and they can start over again.
But she can’t do that, because Wednesday did something terribly inappropriate and Enid isn’t going to encourage such abhorrent behavior by placating her so easily.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wednesday pathetically defends.
Enid’s jaw tightens. “Cut the fucking shit, Wednesday.”
Wednesday’s entire body goes rigid, like a cat’s tail sticking straight up. Her big eyes are suddenly rounder and filled with what Enid thinks might be genuine fear. She doesn’t make any effort to move or stand up; she just sits there and looks up at Enid under wet eyelashes.
“I know you’re Willa. I know that you’ve been watching all of my TikToks and commenting on my videos while pretending to be someone that doesn’t exist so I wouldn’t catch you in the act of stalking me. You knew about the snood all along because you’ve been watching me on a sock account,” Enid says. “I’m kinda sickened by it, because I revealed very personal and intimate thoughts to someone I thought I could trust because I thought they didn’t know me. But I don’t want to fight or yell or make you feel like shit about it. I can tell that you already feel like shit. But I just want you to admit your fault so we can…move on. Or something like that, I guess.”
Enid doesn’t know what “moving on” would entail for Wednesday, and quite honestly, she doesn’t want to know. She would rather go back in time, when she still had hope that Wednesday would be appreciative of her love language, than worry about moving on from this.
She misses the person she was two hours ago, even if that person was a little naive.
“I tried to encourage you,” Wednesday says, her voice tight. She doesn’t look Enid in the eye, which is a mildly worrying symptom of guilt or sickness from her. “I just wanted you to tell me. And you never did. No matter what I said or how many suggestions and ideas I gave you, you just wouldn’t say it.”
Enid sinks to the ground, not even concerned about how much dust and honey might dirty her outfit. She sits near Wednesday but makes a point not to get too close, keeping her hands neutral in her lap.
“What did you want me to say?” Enid asks, tilting her head.
“Don’t play stupid with me or treat me like some sort of idiot, Enid,” she mutters. “You confessed it to me when you didn’t know it was me. And now that I am asking that you say it, you just cannot say it. I’m beginning to have my doubts. You know how much I despise doubt. Doubt is for weak people who fear consequences.”
Enid hums. She’s not trying to tease Wednesday, but that’s just a pleasant side effect. Wednesday’s lips are bluer than usual and her chin is wobbling. Enid yearns to take her into her arms and make it all better, to kiss some pinkness into her lips, to assure her that she meant every last word she typed. She yearns to hold Wednesday and promise her that she won’t ever leave her side, that she’ll be loyal to her until death does them part.
It’s not that easy. Wednesday wanted to make this difficult, and so it is.
“I just want to know why you did it,” Enid tells her, honest. “Why did you do it? Why go through all that when you could have told me the truth?”
Wednesday glares at her. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Flinching, Enid nods. “I guess that’s fair. But really. What even made you think to create a fake account?”
Wednesday doesn’t respond for a minute, scowling at the dirt on her pants. Enid can see the cogs turning and the gears grinding.
“It wasn’t a fake account,” she says, lifting her head. “It was me. Well, that was my intent upon creating the stupid thing to begin with. I…was somewhat interested in viewing your videos, as much as I loathe the internet and am of the opinion that it stunts adolescent growth. I only wanted to see what kind of content you were posting and how much of it was revealing too much of your life. It was curiosity. Of course it killed the cat, as I would say.”
Warmth blooms in Enid’s chest. She smiles. “And then?”
“And then…” She gives a soft breath. “And then I saw how needlessly cruel strangers were being to you, and I was angry and wanted to do something about it. So I began insulting them in return to keep them away from you, and perhaps it worked, but then you messaged me to thank me, under the impression that I was a stranger, and I…”
“Took advantage,” Enid completes.
To Enid’s surprise, Wednesday nods in agreement.
“Yes. I took advantage,” she says in earnest. “That was not my intention.”
“But you still did it because you thought you could get something out of it,” Enid replies, absently nodding her head. “And I guess you did get something out of it, at my expense.”
“I’m…sorry.”
The words are so quiet, they almost fall on deaf ears. Enid sits forward a little, now inches from Wednesday’s face.
“What?”
Wednesday licks her lips, wavering. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, her face screwed up like she’s in agony.
“I said, I am…” She swallows. “I am…” She exhales. “I am sorry. I am sorry that I took advantage of your naivety and lack of situational awareness on the internet. I am sorry that I refused to admit to my feelings for you and instead made you chase me in circles like the puppy you are.”
It sounds like it’s meant to be an insult, but it melts Enid’s heart.
Enid rests a tentative hand on Wednesday’s bony knee, rousing her attention. “I know you are sorry. And I want to forgive you.”
“But?”
“But nothing,” Enid continues. She sighs. “I’m so humiliated, Wednesday. I really am. I told you some really bad things that I shouldn’t have even told a stranger, and I feel so dumb. I just didn’t know what else to do. I tend to trauma dump and blow things out of proportion. I know I should’ve just told you how I felt instead of relying on what I thought was an internet stranger for advice. That’s my fault for being such a baby about it and not telling you. But I’m still embarrassed and upset. When I realized it was actually you…I guess you can say I felt like an idiot for thinking that you were getting better at communicating with me.”
She feels Wednesday’s muscles tense under her hand. Big brown eyes meet hers, and this time, they’re wet with overwhelm.
“I’ve already apologized for my mistake,” Wednesday sharply says. “I cannot rectify or change it. Are you going to harp on it until you kill me with guilt? That would take an unbearably long time.”
“Not really,” replies Enid, shrugging. “I just…don’t know what to do now. I mean, I didn’t think the conversation would go this far. I really thought I was gonna get a knife to the throat by now.”
“There’s still time.”
Enid laughs from the bottom of her belly. It’s such a Wednesday thing to say, and she remembers why she fell in love with her to begin with.
“Did you mean everything you said?” Wednesday suddenly asks, sparing Enid no dignity. “Were you being sincere?”
“Yes. Well, I mean, the scissor sisters stuff—that was—I don’t know—god, this is so embarrassing.” Enid puts her hands on her cheeks. “Yes, I meant it all, okay? I like boobies. Your boobies. There. I said it. I can die now. Stab me in the most important artery now, okay?”
“Maybe later, when we are practicing foreplay.”
“Okay—wait, what?”
Cold hands pull Enid’s warm ones from her face. They’re familiar and welcoming despite being so cold. Enid opens her eyes and finds Wednesday staring at her with that infinitely perfect look that makes Enid want to hold her tight and never let go of her even after all the atrocities she’s committed.
“Perhaps I should have been more honest about my intentions,” Wednesday tells her. “I am an Addams at heart and did not want to admit that I might be more alike my parents that I’d ever thought I would be, but if you want me to pour my entire heart out to you and tell you that you’re an angel who fell from metaphorical heaven and landed at my feet, don’t hold your breath. I’m not that kind of person.”
Enid snorts. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Okay,” Wednesday says. “I feel that you are a very intelligent, kind, warm-hearted person with only the purest of intentions and you’d never hurt anyone who did you no harm, and that makes me sick.” She pauses, expression warming a degree. “But fortunately for you, I enjoy being mentally ill. I…I suppose that I…I love you, Enid.”
Enid pulls her a little closer but doesn’t go all the way. Not yet.
“You’re so cute,” she says. “I think you already know how I feel about you. Do I need to say it again?”
“No, but now that we have established that honesty is important…” Wednesday leans in, keeping her eyes focused on Enid. “I would very much like to kiss you. If you would like to.”
“Come here, Willa,” Enid says, finally tugging her close to her body by her pullover and pressing her lips to hers.
It’s everything Enid desired and more. Wednesday is cold but soft, tense but welcoming, inexperienced but loving. The more she leans into the kiss, the more she understands how foolish she was not to do this sooner.
Wednesday pulls away first but doesn’t move too far from Enid. One hand is still clutching Enid’s sweater and the other drops from where it was cradling Enid’s cheek.
“Don’t ever call me Willa again,” she warns. “Ever.”
Enid smiles and brushes dark hair from Wednesday’s face. “Can I call you babe?”
Wednesday hesitates, eyes flickering. She exhales softly.
“Don’t push your luck.”
And then Enid draws her in for another kiss and they’re so wrapped up in it that they don’t hear Thing sneaking out and scurrying away while he’s still innocent.
—
And sometime later, while Wednesday is sleeping off the emotional high, Enid is sprawled out on her own bed, laying under an orange glow of fairy lights, trying to make sense of the evening and process the fact that her heart now belongs to Wednesday Addams and she didn’t even have to finish writing that card that’s still trapped under her laptop.
She’s been thinking so hard and wondering so long, long enough to neglect the world she’s created behind a screen; a world that strangers are counting on her to update them on.
She picks up her phone and, for the first time since being catapulted into a relationship, opens TikTok with every intention of rotting her brain until she falls asleep.
The first thing she notices is the flood of comments and likes and follows from her most recent afternoon vlog that has now gone viral with over a million views.
The second thing she notices is that user18996356001 has changed their username.
W.A.🕸️
The third thing she notices that W.A.🕸️ has sent her a message.
I love you, Enid.
I love you too Wednesday
She hears Wednesday’s phone buzz across the room, and Wednesday stirs but doesn’t wake, and Enid sighs contentedly, setting aside her phone and burying her head into a stuffed unicorn.
The last thing she thinks about, besides the fact that she’s madly in love with Wednesday, is how she’s going to tell her followers about this tomorrow.