Work Text:
The fire crackles beneath the mantle, shining light on the tangled mess of golden pothos plants intertwined with the wood and bricks as Wednesday sits on a velvet lounge chaise, a lukewarm coffee in her ever-so-cold palm. In her other hand, a novel sits, neatly covered in brown wrapping paper with twine holding it together. A tag hangs on the twine and the paper wrinkles where time shows how long Wednesday has been holding on to it.
It’s Christmas soon.
She plans to post this out so that it reaches the intended on a holiday she loathes to celebrate, but it used to mean something. Something soft and bright.
She smoothes out the paper like a ritual and flips over the white tag so that it faces her, and she traces her own handwriting with her eyes.
To Enid Sinclair.
“Will she want this?” Wednesday asks quietly.
Thing jumps up from his warm spot under the lounge and perches precariously on Wednesday’s knee.
‘Yes,’ He taps. ‘She always wanted to read your writing.’
“Even after everything?” Wednesday speaks into the burning fire.
‘Yes. Even after everything.’ Thing says confidently. ‘You won’t know unless you try. And you haven’t done much trying in all this time away.’
“I suppose you’re right.” Wednesday hums. “I have nothing to lose. Nothing anymore.”
‘It’s still morning light. Do it now.’ Thing tells her.
“Will you come with me?” Wednesday asks her trusted hand.
‘No, it’s far too cold.’ He exaggerates a shiver and Wednesday rolls her eyes.
“You’re so high maintenance.” Wednesday remarks and Thing just taps his fingers happily as he moves closer to the fire.
Wednesday gets up and brings her cold coffee to the kitchen sink and dumps it down the drain, washing her cup quickly. She heads to grab her winter hat, her scarf and gloves, her coat and her keys and small satchel, holding the wrapped novel close to her chest beneath her peacoat. She then ventures out to town, a brisk walk to the post office.
In the last few years, she’s taken residence in an Addams property closer to Jericho than it is to New Jersey. It’s a quaint gothic cottage, deep in the shrubs of trees and dirt roads that lead to nowhere, but it’s been home for Wednesday since she graduated from Nevermore. Thing, though he resides there now, did not join her in living with her until a few years ago because, like others, he was upset with her too, and she could blame no one but herself.
She chose to become a shut-in—even more of a shut-in than she always is.
Nevermore had changed her, irrevocably.
It shifted her entire world on its axis and she did everything to tilt it back when she left, but it always sits a bit skewed in search of light.
She had falsely dreamed of something akin to hope rather than being plagued with visions of impending doom and as a teenager, it frightened her deeply. She never feared anything, but something that was meant to be kind to her? She simply could not fathom the worth of it. She could not fathom that she deserved anything kind or anything Enid Sinclair.
Enid.
How lonesome living has become for Wednesday since becoming accustomed to Enid’s boisterous yet soft presence. Despite pretences and self-proclaimed apathy, Wednesday grew fond of Enid. So fond that she did not spend a day without thinking of Enid. She wanted to know if Enid was eating well. She wanted to know if Enid was having a dreadfully riveting day. She wanted to know if Enid still dyed her hair pink and blue. She wanted to know if Enid still did not eat iceberg lettuce that showed up in prepackaged sandwiches; she wanted to know if Enid still slept with her left foot hanging off the bed; she wanted to know if Enid still watched her favourite films every year, and she wanted to know if Enid thought of her too.
In the fine years of solitude, she managed to purchase a phone. She had a phone and it never had someone to call and never had someone to answer her. Most days she dreamed of Enid calling her, but every other day, she was reminded of what was last said between them too, over a phone call a few winters ago.
It was what led to a change in Wednesday’s routine and more like her entire life’s structure. She disappeared again after graduation and did not speak to anyone at all because she did not feel deserving of anyone’s kindness that she treated carelessly. So to be alone and to treat no one at all, wasn’t that better for Wednesday and everyone out there?
She shivers despite the layers of winter clothing she has on. The snow has not let up since the start of the week and Wednesday detests it, only because it brings a kind of joy to people she cannot understand. The town is lit up with Christmas lights and decked out with decor as children chase after parents over slippery ground with snow in their damp gloves and mittens. How juvenile, Wednesday thinks, but how alive they must feel, she ponders.
She locates the post office through the holiday haze and pushes open the door, signalling the little golden bell at the top of the door. The door closes behind her and she takes her time to adjust to the internal temperature as she focuses on peeling off her leather gloves and she loosens her scarf while she has the wrapped novel clamped beneath the pit of her arm underneath her coat—then she hears it.
An unmistakable cadence in sweet words and a lilt in tone Wednesday could recognise blind.
“Okay, but like, you don’t have any pink stamps? Not even cute ones, at least?”
Wednesday’s breath ceases in her chest and her heart roars underneath her feeble rib bones.
Enid.
She stands there, back facing Wednesday, as she leans over the counter, probably pulling off the most excruciating puppy dog eyes to the attendee. Her hair is the same bouncing blonde above her shoulders with faded dyed tips tucked under a chunky beanie and dressed in a pale pink puffer coat with matching snow boots and lavender-coloured pants.
She appears as radiant as an acid flashback, like all those years ago.
“Nothing pink and nothing cute in my eyes.” The old woman smiles with a crinkle in the skin around her eyes. So much patience for December, Wednesday muses. “But we do have these raven stamps if you’d like?”
“Oh!” Enid straightens up. “May I take a look at them?”
Wednesday hurries to place her gloves back on, intending to turn around to make a French exit, but in her haste, her leather glove drops to the tiled floor like a grenade and it makes an audible slap above the radio cranking carols.
She gasps quietly, bending down to retrieve them.
“...Wednesday?”
The call of her name is unsure, shrouded in disbelief and maybe something more that would drive the dagger engraved with Enid’s name deeper into her chest cavity, but it’s soft—her voice distinctly has become more mature over the years.
She swallows the unease and lifts her head up, straightening up under gem-like blue-green eyes. She pushes down a burn in her chest as her eyes dart over Enid’s face, recalling the picture-perfect image she had remaining of Enid in her memories, but much is similar and only some differences register in Wednesday’s new mental compartment for Enid. Her scars near her eyes have faded closer to the colour of her skin but are still visible when you look as sharply as Wednesday and her cheeks have hollowed out slightly due to age. Her eyes are still so vibrant, and her lips are painted with a shade of cerise, complemented by the winter flush on her cheeks and the tip of her round nose.
“Wednesday.” The second time is more sure, paired with an easy smile and an uplift in tone. Was it a front?
“Enid.” Wednesday breathes in her name like it’s what makes her lungs function.
Wednesday feels compelled to move forward and Enid meets her in the middle.
“What are you doing here?” Enid asks.
“I suppose I should ask you the same. I have not seen you around here.” Wednesday says.
“So you live here?” Enid rocks side to side on the platformed heels of her boots.
“I do.” Wednesday nods.
“I… I’m visiting,” Enid blurts and Wednesday tries to keep her gaze averted, not wanting to stare so much at Enid but her eyes always drift back. “A small thing with friends from school.”
“School. Like Nevermore?” Wednesday asks.
“Yeah, uh,” Enid purses her lips in a straight-lined smile. “It’s our end-of-year tradition since we left school. We just hang out and catch up.”
“Oh.” Wednesday nods solemnly.
She'd like to feign ignorance and not feel affected by the mere fact her peers from Nevermore have kept in contact with each other while she hasn’t, but she’s much mellowed out by the years and she’d deny it all the time when Thing would say it, but it was true. She swallows her odd feeling of disappointment and masks the sudden loneliness aching in her bones.
“You should come.” Enid blurts.
“I should?” Wednesday frowns.
“Well, yeah.” Enid nods. “You’re our school friend too.”
And what am I to you?
“It’s in two days. We’re staying at Eugene’s place.” Enid says.
“I’ll think about it.” Wednesday says lowly and she doesn’t say she doesn’t want a haphazard invitation when they haven’t spoken to each other in years.
“Are you sure? You don’t look like you’re thinking about it.” Enid says hesitantly and Wednesday curses her for seeing right through. “It’s not a pity invite, if that’s what you’re thinking. Eugene sent me to get postage stamps so we could send you an invite. He just didn’t know you were in town, so.”
“How would he even know where to send it?” Wednesday questions.
“Well, we send it to anywhere an Addams might be living. For a few years Pugsley received them but he kept showing up in your stead so I think he got confused about the invite.” Enid chuckles.
“Loathsome brother.” Wednesday grumbles.
Enid takes a moment to study Wednesday and a soft smile settles on her face as she notices Wednesday is as grouchy as she’s always been.
“We talk about you, y’know.” Enid says. “We’ve always wanted you there. We just, well, we didn’t know how.”
“Did you?” Wednesday remarks.
“Did I what?” Enid tilts her head.
“Did you want me there, too?” Wednesday bares herself to Enid.
“I…” The moment of hesitation carves open a deep scar in Wednesday’s callous emotions. “Of course, Wends. Of course I want you there. You… you’re my best friend.” Enid’s words are not lies; Wednesday can deduce that, but hearing it barely reassures Wednesday and the feeling of loss she’s endured for years.
“I… I didn’t think I could hold that title anymore.” Wednesday swallows thickly.
“Well, I can’t erase what you meant to me when we were at Nevermore.” Enid says softly.
“Oh.” Wednesday swallows dryly.
An odd moment of silence passes through them and Wednesday feels as if she’s overstaying this brief instance of reprieve, even though it is she that resides in this side of town. She tightens her hands over her gloves and puts them back on.
“I… I’ll leave you to it, Enid Sinclair.” Wednesday nods gently.
“Oh, okay.” Enid appears disheartened suddenly but Wednesday’s never been too good at reading emotions.
Wednesday turns to leave, but she hesitates for a moment, fleeting the novel inside her coat. She turns back to Enid, whose eyes widen when she meets Wednesday’s eyes again.
“Before I go, Enid, this is for you.” Wednesday pulls out the novel, clumsily thrusting it out to Enid and it knocks against her hand.
“What is this?” Enid asks, inspecting the package.
“Something I wanted to give to you a long time ago.” Wednesday says softly.
“Why… why now?” Enid’s brows furrow slightly.
“I…” Wednesday furrows her brows slightly, contemplating her words, wondering if she has enough time to create an excuse but her heart moves faster than her mouth. “You walked into town like a dream. I had thought about that a lot—you, in a dream. I was headed to post this to you but well, here you are.”
Enid’s hands tremble, her throat tightening as she looks over the gift. There’s a name tag and her heart lurches unpleasantly at the sight of her name written in Wednesday’s own handwriting, not typed up on her typewriter.
“Thank you.” Enid musters her voice, trying everything to not break down in this tiny post office in the middle of a freezing Christmas.
“Goodbye, Enid.” Wednesday says unusually soft and Enid hates the way it sounds like a goodbye when she’s just seen Wednesday again after such a long time.
Wednesday steps out of the post office and feels a shiver course through her body, making the emptiness known in her body. She feels in pieces again, the biggest piece of all, her heart, back there with Enid.
“Wednesday, wait!” Enid chases after her and steps out into the snow.
“Enid?” Wednesday blinks. She was sure that would be a final closure for what was and what could have been.
“Can we get a coffee?” Enid suggests breathlessly.
🐦⬛🐺
It’s not the weathervane, nor is it a grand café in this small town but it’s a retro diner where Wednesday has spent countless times sitting in a desolate booth, writing her musings and poems in a leather-bound notebook, drinking an unlimited supply of coffee because the sweet old lady running the joint always thought she was lonely. Wednesday never refuted that sentiment.
They find a booth—well, in fact, Enid had asked her where she usually sat, and Wednesday led her to her favourite booth, right at the back. They settle across from each other and Enid hurries to fiddle with a menu, not knowing what to do with herself.
She wanted to play it cool, but nothing was cool about her when she was in front of Wednesday. It’s been years apart but Enid will never settle her nerves in front of the macabre girl. She feels those juvenile feelings she felt as a teen swirl in her stomach, but she also feels the anxiety and dread of what transpired before this fateful meeting and how everything ended so quickly all those years ago.
“Wednesday, dear!” A round, short lady with a frilly apron and pearly smile waddles over to their booth. “You have a friend!”
“Yes.” Wednesday grumbles, suddenly awkward.
“I saw you by the window—I already had your coffee prepared!” She grins. “If I had known you were bringing a friend, I would have been more hospitable. I haven’t seen you around here before, blondie!”
“I’m Enid.” Enid introduces herself, smiling brightly as her eyes flit curiously between Wednesday’s embarrassed expression and the kind lady. “I went to school with Wednesday.”
“Oh, how dear you are.” The woman chuckles and turns back to Wednesday. “How dear is she, Wednesday?”
“Very.” Wednesday answers in a quiet mumble, not looking up from her coffee mug and a blush lights up Enid’s face.
A red flush settles across Wednesday’s pale winter face, right above her freckled nose.
“What would you like to order, Enid?” The woman asks.
“Oh, uh,” Enid fumbles with the menu, since she didn’t really take a proper look earlier.
“She’d like a deadly sweet drink, Geraldine.” Wednesday says but then stops herself, looking at Enid with an expression akin to a deer in the headlights. “Unless you’d prefer something else.”
“N-no, something deadly sweet is right.” Enid clears her throat.
“How about a hot chocolate for the weather?” Geraldine beams. “I’ll even give you a mountain of marshmallows and not one, but two candy canes! Since you’re Wednesday’s good friend.”
“Thank you, Geraldine. That will be all for now.” Wednesday nods and the woman skirts away.
Wednesday looks over the rim of her coffee mug at Enid and when their eyes meet, she flits them away hurriedly.
“I… I apologise for ordering for you. I made an unlawful assumption that your tastes have not changed.” Wednesday says quietly.
“You’re not wrong, though, so it’s alright.” Enid giggles softly and Wednesday feels her heartbeat race, hoping Enid can’t hear it. “My taste hasn’t changed.”
There’s something else in that admittance but Wednesday is far too nervous to pick up on it. How odd it is to feel like a teenager again after so much time has been spent settling into the woes of adulthood.
The hot chocolate comes and Geraldine smiles brightly at the two of them before winking at Wednesday who blushes again and Enid can’t help but giggle, so unfamiliar with the sight of a pink Wednesday.
“How did you and Geraldine get acquainted?” Enid decides to bring up an easy topic that won’t tear down their defences.
“When I first moved here I spent many hours people-watching and writing at this table. I would always order just coffee until Geraldine began to place plates of food on the table when I didn’t ask for them. She never said anything either.” Wednesday recounts. “Just that… she thought I looked lonely. And also that I should not drink so much coffee on an empty stomach.”
“Sounds like you.” Enid chuckles. “I always reminded you back in the dorm to eat when you got into your writing zone.”
“I know.” Wednesday’s lip quirks to the side quickly, and Enid catches it and holds it dear to her heart.
“It’s a weird thought, though. Imagining you sitting here, writing and people-watching. You never liked bright open spaces with noises and people at that.” Enid hums.
“I… I devoted time here because my house became too silent.” Wednesday confesses. “I grew unacquainted with the quiet.”
“Oh.” Enid swallows.
“Enid, why… why are you here?” Wednesday asks.
“I told you, I—”
“No.” Wednesday shakes her head. “Here, with me. What are you doing with me? I thought there was a definitive sentiment along the years after graduation that you never wanted to see or hear from me again.”
“I…” Enid breathes deeply through her nose, her mouth opening to find the right words to say. “You just appeared in front of me after so long! And you know what? I’m sorry. Because you’re here now, I want to say sorry for how I was towards the end. You didn’t deserve what I said to you on that Christmas.”
“Would you ever have said sorry if I did not see you today?” Wednesday retorts.
“I—I don’t know. I don’t know, Wednesday.” Enid admits quietly and Wednesday frowns slightly.
“All I wanted was to say my final goodbye and send you my novel.” Wednesday speaks clearly. “But now, sitting here with you, I cannot understand what you expect from this. You’re beating a dead horse, Enid.”
“Well, I don’t want you out of my life!” Enid’s voice rises.
“I have been out of your life for years.” Wednesday counters.
“Well, you just waltzed right back in today!” Enid puffs her cheeks out. “I just… I’m not afraid to admit what I did was wrong. And that I missed you—a lot. Forgive me if I jumped right at the opportunity.”
A silence passes through as they digest the rapid spew of emotional words they just hurled at each other.
Wednesday remains silent, unsure of the weight of her words as she gazes upon Enid—so ferocious with emotions and an earnest heart. Will she ever deserve her?
“What’s the gift you gave me?” Enid asks quietly, changing the subject.
“The first edition of my novel before it was published worldwide.” Wednesday answers despondently, folding her hands over each other on the table. “It is hand typed on my beloved typewriter. I… I completed it a few months after graduation. I had always planned to give it to you, knowing you spent countless hours watching me work on it.”
“I…” Enid gasps quietly, hands tightening around the still-wrapped novel on her lap.
“The first thing I wanted to do when I first achieved publication was to tell you,” Wednesday interjected Enid’s train of thought quietly. “Then I realised I could not do it anymore.” She doesn’t say, you are the first person I want to share new things with, always.
“You could have.” Enid says and Wednesday just looks at her, eyes filled with everything other than stoicism.
“Would you have answered?” Wednesday asks meekly.
“I…” Enid pauses for a breath and swallows the rest of her words.
“You told me not to call. A year after graduation, you told me not to call anymore.” Wednesday recounts.
“I–I was hurt.” Enid blinks harshly, tears welling in her eyes. “How do you think I was going to react when you uprooted your life and suddenly moved away without a word when you promised you’d be there for me? When you promised you’d stay.”
It was true.
There were no falsifications in Enid’s words and Wednesday will always regret their final year at Nevermore. It was when she came to the conclusion that she could not hate Enid, she could not detest her, and she could not hurt or push her away. She could only simply love her and it was tearing everything apart because she knew Enid would never look at her in the way she did.
She knew Enid’s heart would never burst at the seams screaming for her to love her like Wednesday’s heart did.
So quietly, she walked away.
She stopped talking, stopped lingering, and stopped meeting Enid’s eyes. She spent most hours of the day outside of class, not in their dorm and spent quiet, depressing nights in the forest and found no comfort to soothe her treacherous feelings.
How cruel of her heart to fall for someone so loving yet so unattainable.
She had never meant to make promises she couldn’t keep but in the face of someone so sweet and innocent like Enid Sinclair—Wednesday could only promise to be a close friend when all she wanted was her affections. So at the end of graduation, Wednesday left without a word and Enid never knew why. Wednesday hopes she’d never have to know why.
“Let us not rehash something that we cannot finish.” Wednesday drains her coffee and slams it down on the table before pushing out from the booth.
“Wends, what—”
“Enid Sinclair.” Wednesday speaks clearly, trying to stabilise her voice as she looks down at Enid. “I hope you get everything you want in life and I wish to never be a part of it longer than I can stand. Adieu, mon loup.”
Wednesday rushes over to the counter, placing a hefty bill onto the cash register counter before sauntering away to escape, barely looking back at where she left her soul.
She trudges in the snow, stomping her feet and shuffling around the thick white piles of snow as she descends further away from the bustles of the town.
“Wednesday Friday Addams!”
Wednesday continues on, willing herself not to break. Why hadn’t Enid left their conversation as it was? Why did she have to keep trying to barrage through her defences?
“Enid, why didn’t you leave?” Wednesday whips around. “I gave you all these opportunities–”
“Stop pushing me away!” Enid sobs. “I’m sorry about what I said to you in that call, okay! I was really hurt, Wednesday. I believed in you and I had this dream that we’d always be together and in a moment it was gone from me like you never existed! It felt like everything I built was fleeting and you just ripped it away from me! I believed in you like… like you were my religion.”
“You… shouldn’t put so much value on me.” Wednesday feels the cold seep through her bones. “It’s not worth it—I’m not worth it.”
“I hate that you say that.” Enid frowns deeply.
“It’s what I know.” Wednesday’s words feel like sandpaper against her tight throat.
Enid cries freely and Wednesday wants nothing more than to hold her and wipe them away but she has dreamed of it too much and she has never acted on it. It’s unfamiliar the way her chest tightens.
“You don’t need me, Enid.” Wednesday says resolutely, her gloved hands cradling herself. “I’ll only hurt you even more. And I can’t… can’t stand to be what you want when I know it’s not what I want. I… I loved you.” Wednesday could almost crumble to the ground and will let the cold sweep her away. “I love you. I love you, Enid Sinclair—I have ruined everything I have ever touched.”
And it’s a confession in the making and Enid’s eyes widen slightly, a burn lighting up in her chest as she grips onto Wednesday’s words.
“If you had—” Enid halts, inhaling sharply. “If you had stuck around, I would have had the chance to tell you that I loved you.”
Then it drops—it shatters right beneath Wednesday’s feet.
“What…” It’s the only word Wednesday can find to utter.
Enid begins to cry even more freely now, sobbing and she laughs, and it dizzies Wednesday.
“Enid—”
“I hate us.” Enid sniffles.
She walks over to Wednesday like a clumsy foal before throwing her arms around Wednesday and tackling her down to the snow. Wednesday makes no move to dodge or even protect herself as she falls back into the ice-cold snow with Enid wrapped on top of her.
“We’ve wasted so much time.” Enid cries into Wednesday’s scarfed shoulder—the warmth of Enid penetrating the gothic girl’s icy disposition. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Wednesday swallows, wrapping her arms around Enid, not caring about the dampness of the snow seeping into her winter layers. “No, Enid. I’m sorry. For everything.”
Enid sniffles and wipes her face into Wednesday’s scarf and the smaller woman pays no mind to it.
“You… you said you loved me.” Wednesday takes note of the past tense as she asks anxiously. “Do you still love me?”
Enid chuckles wetly and her face splits into a blinding grin as she tilts forward and captures Wednesday’s freezing lips in her own soft, affectionate ones. It’s a short kiss but it feels like a promise for many more to come as Enid finds herself chasing Wednesday when she pulls away slightly.
“What was the dream?” Wednesday asks and she becomes aware of the feeling of her own tears trickling down her face.
Enid blinks for a moment before she remembers what she had mentioned earlier.
“No matter where we were,” Enid sniffles, wiping her glove underneath her nose. “No matter when, I just pictured us. Living together, cooking together, reading together and just everything! I wanted everything with you, Wednesday. I hated all this space because I had to get used to sleeping alone again and couldn’t find peace in silence like I did with your quietness. It wasn’t easy at all to unwrite you from me.”
“I love you.” Wednesday smiles and Enid giggles, leaning down to kiss her again.
“You have dimples!” Enid peppers wet kisses on Wednesday’s face and it makes her face burn with the cold. “God, these kisses are so nice but so salty…”
“I believe we should get up and head somewhere warm to talk more.” Wednesday says softly.
“Okay,” Enid nods, sniffling hard. “We need to go back to the restaurant—I left your book.”
Wednesday chuckles slightly and Enid smiles sheepishly. “Of course you left it, my wolf.”
🐦⬛🐺
“Woah.” Divina’s eyes widened.
“Addams.” Bianca blinks.
“Holy shit!” Yoko’s jaw drops.
“Are we dreaming?” Eugene squeaks.
“Perhaps.” Wednesday responds monotonously.
‘If you guys could let us in, please!" Enid huffs. “It’s super freaking cold out here!”
Reluctantly, Wednesday had followed Enid by the tug of the wolf’s hand in her own all the way to Eugene’s apartment since Enid was so happy she wanted to bring Wednesday along now. But the seer wanted to be in her own home, perhaps cuddled up with Enid by her fireplace but she would never admit that just yet.
“Are you real?” Ajax reaches out to poke Wednesday but Enid intercepts it with a sharp swat.
“No touching.” Enid could almost growl.
“Possessive much.” Yoko snorts and Wednesday smirks underneath her scarf.
“Alright, let’s get the party started!” Eugene beams.
It’s a relatively spacious apartment decorated in a vintage eighties manner that tells Wednesday that Eugene is influenced by his two mothers, but there are hints of a boyish charm which Wednesday can infer is from Ajax’s belongings since they are housemates.
They settle around the living area, some on the floor while Enid and Wednesday are sharing a sofa chair clearly meant for one person. They huddle around the Christmas tree, catching up and Wednesday begrudgingly tells some stories too. They snack, share drinks and Wednesday becomes accustomed to the weight of Enid’s head on her shoulder—her blonde hair tickling her skin.
Wednesday then realises something and she straightens up, clearing her throat and all eyes turn to her.
“I have to announce that I unfortunately came here on short notice and do not have gifts for you all.” Wednesday grumbles, almost embarrassed.
“Aw, Wends,” Enid giggles girlishly, curling her arms around Wednesday’s shoulders. “It’s okay. Your presence is our collective Christmas gift!”
“Well, maybe you could give us all hugs as your gift.” Eugene suggests shyly.
Wednesday seems to ponder the thought and Enid takes it as hesitance.
“You don’t have to—”
“Okay, fine.” Wednesday agrees and Enid closes her mouth, unblinking as she gapes at Wednesday.
Wednesday rises from the comfort of Enid and opens up her arms stiffly.
“Who is first?” She sighs and Eugene barrels right into her.
Next is Enid, who hugs her the longest of all, of course. Then it’s Divina, whom Wednesday does not mind hugging since they have always been cordial with each other. Ajax also gives her a hug, albeit awkwardly and mutters that he’s glad she met with Enid again, and she pointedly does not hug him back just because. Then it’s Yoko—irritable Yoko who hugs Wednesday by the waist and lifts her momentarily into the air and Wednesday grumbles loudly, wanting to stab her but she left all her weapons at home. Last is Bianca and they both face each other, staring with matching grimaces as if they are preparing for one of their famous fencing matches back at Nevermore.
“Not hugging you.” Bianca shudders.
“Likewise.” Wednesday nods stiffly, and they share a firm handshake.
Enid dives in for a second hug just because and places a wet kiss on her cheek, which everyone coos at despite the burning of Wednesday face and threats to cover her embarrassment.
The night is retired when everyone is asleep by the couch and piles of pillows and blankets by the floor. With one look at Wednesday, Enid can tell the woman is already spent and wanting the comfort of home as her eyes droop and her lips purse in a thin line. Enid chuckles softly and opens her palm to Wednesday, who drops her hand into Enid’s and they leave Eugene’s apartment together.
It doesn’t take much convincing for Enid to stay when the woman is already taking off her coat and leaving her boots by Wednesday’s door.
“Oh, Thing!” Enid squeals when a warm hand jumps at her and she catches him. “How are you?”
Thing and Enid converse enthusiastically and it makes Wednesday roll her eyes as she unwraps all her winter layers.
“There is a spare bedroom across from my room next to my study. You may spend the night there,” Wednesday voices hesitantly.
Enid places Thing down as she walks over to Wednesday and he takes the hint to scurry away to leave the lovebirds alone.
“Do you want me sleeping away from you?” Enid smirks, turning around to wrap her arms around Wednesday’s lithe waist. “I was under the impression that we were to never part from each other again. And well, it is a very cold winter.”
“You’ve read my mind.” Wednesday allows a small smile. “I just did not want to assume.”
“Assume away.” Enid nuzzles her cheek. “You know me like the back of your hand.”
“I do.” Wednesday turns her head to place a gentle kiss on Enid’s lips.
Wednesday drags Enid up to her room and she closes the door behind her.
It’s unorthodox in the way they take to warm each other up, but it’s simply the only way when they've been apart from each other for so long and many unbearable winters have passed without their shared affections.
Enid noses Wednesday’s neck—the both of them all cuddled up in Wednesday black sheets. Wednesday places her novel down on her bedside table after having finished reading aloud to Enid the first chapter since her wolf had asked her to read it to her.
She switches off her bedside lamp and moves down to a more comfortable position to hold Enid closer.
It’s quiet for a moment before the time on Wednesday’s wall clock catches her attention.
“Hey, Wends?” she murmurs.
“Yes, Enid?” Wednesday doesn’t take long to respond—always at Enid’s call.
“Merry Christmas.” Enid kisses her neck. “I love you.”
“As I love you.” Wednesday feels a dreamless sleep take her. “Merry Christmas, Enid.”
🐦⬛⏳🐺
Wednesday swallows thickly, her hand wrapped around an old rotary phone in her family home. It’s a busy Christmas in the living area, but she’s away in a dark hallway pressed against a cold wall.
She clutches her newly published novel in her hand, a printed version sent to her from the publishing house. She had been elated, celebrating the holidays as well as the publishing of her book, but the first thing she thought of when she got her hands on her novel was that Enid would have wanted to see this.
But she wasn’t sure of that anymore with how they left things between them when they graduated. Were they still friends? Could they still be friends if Enid feels the weight of an Addams love? Wednesday shakes her head, muttering quietly to herself. Enid couldn’t love her like that. She shouldn’t.
It’s been almost a year since she last saw or heard of Enid. She hasn’t spoken to her since their final night in the haunted walls of Ophelia hall.
She stares at the rotary phone, her fingers pressing into the holes of the beginning of a number she’s long memorised for years since she met her colourful wolf.
Does she deserve to hear from Enid? Wednesday ponders but before she knows it, the phone is trilling and Wednesday is waiting with bated breath.
The call connects and Wednesday feels how dry her mouth is.
“Hello?” Enid’s voice crackles through the phone.
Wednesday opens her mouth and tries to find her will to speak—just to say something but it never comes.
“Is this a prank call?” Enid speaks louder. “Hello?!”
Wednesday shuts her eyes for a moment of reprieve, her knuckles turning white from how tightly she’s gripping onto the phone like a lifeline. Her breathing bleeds through the phone and Wednesday can establish the moment Enid has a probable chance of recognising her.
“...Wednesday?” Enid calls softly and Wednesday’s throat constricts. “Is that you?”
A long beat of silence again and Wednesday wonders if Enid cut the call immediately and whether or not she’s been standing there in pure silence, hallucinating. But she can hear Enid breathing on the other side and her heart aches and wants.
“Merry Christmas, Wednesday.” Enid sounds bitter but she speaks softly, like the tether between them has thinned out and is threatening to break. “Please don’t call me.”
She hears a quiet sniffle before the phone call ends and she drops the phone.
THE END <3
Quick link to everything everywhere all at once aka my socials (carrd website) !!
🍉
🍉
🍉