Archive of Our Own

“A quad, neat.” Wednesday's icy glare drilled into the barista until he coughed out the price. Eight-fifty. An extravagance, she tossed a ten in the jar, relishing the sting of wasted wealth more than another vapid conversation. Back in her booth, the haven of solitude, she glared at the offending phone. "Entirely too gruesome," her editor's email sneered. Viper de la Muerte, the national bestseller dripping with delightfully macabre violence.

Its sequel, El Cuervo Negro, would have to wait another fortnight. "Mierda," Wednesday muttered, a hand massaging her temple with growing frustration. The barista deposited the steaming beverage and slunk away.

A shadow fell across the table. Wednesday's withering glare, honed to perfection on festering wounds and annoying pigeons, met its mark. Then, recognition flickered, replaced by a clenched fist. Enid Sinclair. Her cerulean eyes, usually vibrant, were clouded with something akin to... apprehension? Framed by the stark contrast were the telltale scars, a constant reminder.

Wednesday's gaze flicked down, taking in the pink and white ensemble - a turtleneck assaulting a pleated skirt, a fluffy jacket mimicking a deranged poodle. Enid finally settled, her form a stark contrast to the dark corners Wednesday craved. "Wednesday...?" Enid's voice, a melody, trembled slightly. She dared to occupy the opposite booth.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed at the clenched hands, the same nails that had... No. Dismissal. "Enid," Wednesday's voice was a honed blade, "my desire for conversation is nonexistent. Leave." A flick of her wrist sent the typewriter carriage clattering back, a silent demand for solitude.

"Wednesday, please." A glimpse revealed the glistening of unwelcome tears. Another fist clenched. Closing her eyes, Wednesday inhaled a fortifying dose of burned coffee. Enid's voice, a cloying syrup, coated her senses. Like chugging a vat of diabetes, Wednesday thought with disdain. A memory surfaced: dissecting Enid's vocal quirks, the telltale signs of emotional turmoil. This saccharine sweetness was a facade, a desperate attempt to mask... something.

The last confrontation echoed: disappointment laced with anger, cracking Enid's voice like a cheap record. The memory fueled Wednesday's dismissal.

"It's just the way I am, Wednesday! You always look too much into it! Ajax likes me!" Enid's outburst had been the prelude to a self-inflicted exile, leaving a gaping hole where a semblance of companionship once resided.

A flicker of something other than icy disdain escaped Wednesday's lips. "Okay." The meagre concession surprised even her.

"It... suits you." The words tumbled out, a betrayal of composure. Confusion clouded Enid's face; the tilt of her head reminiscent of a bewildered puppy. Wednesday, ever the observer, filed this detail away. "The hair," she elaborated, annoyance at her lapse in control coloring her tone, "a dirty blonde bob. It’s… Adequate." Her gaze held firm, pushing back the unwelcome heat creeping onto her cheeks.

Enid's features bloomed with a hesitant smile. "Thank you." An awkward silence descended, punctuated only by the clinking of spoons against ceramic. "You look… adequate too, Wednesday."

A curt nod acknowledged the compliment. Still, Wednesday couldn't tear her gaze away, a morbid fascination twisting in her gut as Enid shifted uncomfortably. Finally, Wednesday dropped her eyes back to the steaming hot coffee.

"Wednesday," Enid's voice, softer now, held a tremor of vulnerability, "I'm sorry. I miss you. I want to be friends again."

The stark truth hammered at Wednesday. Accepting Enid back was akin to courting disaster. The Addams curse thrived on attachments, and Enid was the most painful scar it had carved. Yet, a flicker of something unfamiliar, something almost... tempting, danced in the dark corners of her heart.

"Mother, father stop the overbearing affection." Wednesday drawled, her voice dripping with disdain as her parents launched into their usual display of affection. Their grotesque waltz around the living room did little to inspire her creativity.

"My little storm cloud," Gomez boomed, his arm draped around Morticia's waist. "One glorious night, your heart will succumb to the agony of the Addams curse!"

Wednesday glared up from the typewriter, "Spare me the dramatics, unlike you two, I'll never be shackled by the sentimentality of love."

A foolish declaration, little did she know, fate, that cruel jester, would soon present her with a predicament far more agonizing than any her parents could conjure: Enid Sinclair.

Enid burst into the room, a whirlwind of sunshine and exuberance. The door slammed with a satisfying thud, echoing Wednesday's growing irritation. "Wends!" Enid chirped, her voice high-pitched with barely contained excitement. "You'll never guess what just happened!"

Enid practically bounced onto Wednesday's bed, oblivious to the scowl etching itself onto her face. Her hands fluttered near her cheeks, pink creeping up her neck. With a theatrical flourish, Enid announced, "The barkeep – a fellow with cheekbones that could cut glass, mind you – asked me out!"

Wednesday's eyes lifted from her typewriter, glacial and devoid of warmth. The tension in the room thickened under her cold stare. "Enid," she drawled, her voice a monotone laced with something akin to... annoyance? "Do enlighten me."

Enid, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath Wednesday's impassive facade, continued her excited babble. "He's totes cute, Wends! Don't worry though, I made sure it's for tomorrow night. Wouldn't dream of missing Wednesday's Wednesday Night!"

Enid bounced off the bed, her cheerfulness grating on Wednesday's nerves. As Enid squeezed Wednesday's shoulder with a lingering touch, a fist clenched in Wednesday's gut. An unfamiliar sensation bubbled up, a foreign emotion she couldn't quite define.

Enid skipped out of the room, leaving Wednesday alone with the echo of her words and a disquieting emptiness. With a jolt, Wednesday rose and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door with a force usually reserved for particularly annoying flies. Her reflection stared back, a pale mask with a faint flush creeping across her cheeks.

"What is wrong with me?" she hissed, the question bouncing off the cold tiles.

A sudden, booming laugh echoed from the room. Gomez, ever the theatrical presence, materialized at the crystal ball. "Ah, my storm cloud! It seems the Addams curse has finally reared its skeletal head!"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed walking to her room, her grip tightening on her thighs. Her gaze flickered to the crystal ball nestled on her desk, a sudden urge to launch it at the wall surging through her. "That's absurd," she scoffed, forcing a calmness she didn't quite feel. "Enid simply found a date. I do not... harbor feelings for her."

Despite her words, the heat in her cheeks refused to dissipate. Her gaze drifted towards Enid's empty room, a gnawing sense of... loss? settled in its wake.

Morticia, ever perceptive, glided into the frame. "El lobo seems to have captured our darkling’s heart," she mused, her voice a silken whisper.

Wednesday slammed her hand over the crystal ball, cutting off the image and the unwelcome truth it reflected. How foolish, how utterly ridiculous. Enid Sinclair, a ray of sunshine in her world of shadows, was causing a turmoil within her Wednesday Addams had never anticipated.

"Enid," Wednesday's voice dripped with disdain, "your attempt at emotional manipulation is as transparent as a werewolf's alibi during a full moon. My schedule currently resembles a crypt – overflowing with deadlines and devoid of leisure. Perhaps you could take your… exuberance elsewhere."

Wednesday slammed her eyes back onto the typewriter, the rhythmic clack a soothing counterpoint to the unwelcome sunshine Enid exuded. A warm touch on her hand sent a jolt through her. Glancing up, she found herself captivated by Enid's eyes, their softness a stark contrast to the usual Addams Family palette. For a moment, Wednesday found herself unable to tear her gaze away, a traitorous warmth blooming on her cheeks.

With a surge of defiance, Wednesday rose abruptly. Gathering her belongings, she attempted to project an air of practiced indifference. Clutching her bag and a lukewarm coffee, she made a beeline for the exit. A hand on her wrist, however, snagged her like a spider caught in its own web.

Wednesday spun around, her glare honed to a weapon. But as her eyes met Enid's, the practiced fury faltered. A hint of vulnerability, a tremor in Enid's normally vibrant blue eyes, fractured the icy dam holding Wednesday's emotions. The glare softened, a fleeting flicker of something akin to… concern?

"I-I’m here on Wednesdays," Enid stammered, a blush creeping up her neck. "Wednesday Addams Nights. Remember?"

Wednesday remained silent, the grip on her bag strap tightening. The familiar routine, the one comfort in the chaotic storm of her emotions, was suddenly fraught with an unfamiliar tension. With a swift turn, she swept out of the cafe, leaving Enid standing alone amidst the clatter of cups and hushed whispers.

The sickening thud of the apartment door reverberated through the desolate hallway. Wednesday stalked into her office, the only sound the staccato click of doc martens against the cold floor, punctuated by the rhythmic crash of her precious typewriter hitting the desk.

 Enid's touch lingered, a phantom ember on her arm, igniting a fiery wave of irritation. Ignoring the traitorous heat rising in her cheeks, Wednesday marched towards the bathroom with a vengeance in her stride.

The icy water pummeled down, a brutal mirror to the carefully constructed wall of disdain she usually wore. Her fingers fumbled with the braids, the once disciplined strands unraveling with a frustrated yank. Soap became a weapon, scouring the offending spot on her arm with a ferocity bordering on self-punishment.

 The memory of Enid's touch was an affront, a crack in the fortress of solitude she'd meticulously built.

Emerging from the punishing shower, Wednesday eyed her reflection with a critical scoff. Pathetic. Cloaking herself in the familiar comfort of black pajamas with practiced efficiency, she rebraided her hair, each twist a deliberate act of regaining control. Reaching for her phone, a loathsome necessity in this world of vapid narcissism, she flopped onto the bed.

Twitter and Instagram were festering wounds, but her "manager," a term dripping with scornfulness , insisted on this grotesque charade of "marketing" her masterpiece. With a grimace, Wednesday navigated to Enid Sinclair's sickeningly saccharine online profiles. A picture from their Nevermore days flickered on the screen, Enid radiating sunshine in an outfit that could only be described as a sartorial war crime.

"Okayy." Enid drawled, patting down her outfit with practiced nonchalance, turning to Wednesday with a questioning arch of her brow. "How do I look? Too much… or not enough?" A playful wink punctuated her question.

A rainbow monstrosity of a crop top, clashing with blindingly pink tights and a skirt that barely contained her exuberance, was accessorized with a puffy pastel monstrosity of a jacket and, of course, her signature pink converse. Despite herself, Wednesday couldn't deny Enid's undeniable radiance.

Wednesday fought the blush creeping up her neck, forcing a sardonic reply, "You're venturing out again, I presume?"

Enid hummed in agreement, doing a flamboyant twirl before the mirror, a wide smile plastered across her face. As Wednesday studied Enid, a flicker of confusion crossed her features.

Drawn by an invisible force, Wednesday approached Enid, her hand hovering near Enid's cheek. "Why hide them?" she rasped.

Enid met Wednesday's gaze, a hint of crimson blooming on her cheeks as she inhaled sharply at the sudden closeness. "They… they make me look weak," she mumbled, her voice laced with insecurity. "Like a flawed wolf, not pretty."

Wednesday cupped Enid's cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Whoever told you that is a blithering idiot," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "You are captivating, Enid Sinclair. Utterly captivating, scars and all." A flicker of something akin to understanding dawned on Enid's face, a blush blooming across her cheeks.

"Oh," she breathed, the single word heavy with revelation.

The unwelcome memory sent a jolt through Wednesday, tossing her phone onto the nightstand with a clatter. Planting her face into the pillow, she crossed her arms with a disgruntled huff. A mental vow was made never attend that cafe on Wednesdays again. Yet, here she was, inexplicably occupying the same booth on a different Wednesday afternoon. Absurdity.

Her fingers flew across the typewriter keys, a ghost of a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she reworked a particularly violent section. A prickling sensation on her skin – a presence. With a sigh that bordered on annoyance, Wednesday finally lifted her gaze to meet Enid's expectant eyes.

"Quad espresso, on the rocks," Wednesday stated flatly, not bothering to acknowledge the coffee already placed opposite her. "Standard, I presume, Sinclair?"

A faint blush tinged Enid’s cheek . "Yes, actually. Though, the sugar and caffeine content have undoubtedly climbed to new heights." Her voice carried a hint of self-deprecation, a playful smirk twisting her lips.

Wednesday's nose wrinkled in barely concealed disgust. "How you haven't contracted diabetes yet remains a mystery," she drawled, her voice dripping with sardonic amusement.

Silence settled, punctuated only by the rhythmic clack of Wednesday's typewriter. She could practically feel Enid's gaze burning into her back. Without looking up, Wednesday fired back, "Out with it, Sinclair."

"You scowl a lot, Addams," Enid started, her voice hesitant, "but you have very striking features." A beat of silence, then, "You're beautiful, Wednesday."

Surprise flickered across Wednesday's face, her grip on the coffee mug tightening momentarily.

Enid’s hand hovered for a moment, then brushed a light touch across Wednesday's cheek. The contact sent a jolt through Wednesday, a flicker of something foreign sparking in her eyes.

Enid, misinterpreting the hesitation, stammered, "You're... you're very striking, Wednesday. Beautiful, even." The word hung heavy in the air. Wednesday's expression remained unreadable, a battle raging behind her dark eyes.

Enid's gaze flicked across the room, landing on Wednesday's typewriter. A sly smile played on her lips. "I can't help but notice you're still hunched over your writing. Must be getting exciting!

Wednesday barely spared her a glance. "The act of writing, Sinclair, requires a certain level of dedication," she replied dryly.

Enid's surprise was momentary. Pulling out her phone with a flourish, she feigned ignorance. "Wait, you never mentioned you were an author!" Her voice betrayed a hint of amusement as she scrolled through a search engine.

"The concept, Enid, is rather self-explanatory," Wednesday drawled, her fingers continuing their rhythmic assault on the keys.

A triumphant flourish announced Enid's discovery. "'Viper de la Muerte' by Wednesday Addams," she read aloud, a whistle escaping her lips. "Well, well, well. Look at you, not going all incognito on the world."

Wednesday's expression, however, remained unchanged. "A certain level of privacy isn't paramount," she stated coolly.

"Famous, even!" Enid exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. "I always knew that book had bestseller potential! Though, I confess, I didn't anticipate this level of success I’ll need to check it out ."

"The subject matter," Wednesday interjected, a hint of warning in her voice, "might not be entirely suitable for your delicate sensibilities."

Enid, unfazed, winked at her. "I've grown a thicker skin since Nevermore, Addams. Perhaps that's why the constant barrage of self-promotion on those platforms escapes my notice entirely." A hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Though, I wouldn't expect someone as discerning as yourself to be particularly interested in fleeting internet fame."

Wednesday, piqued by the unexpected turn, found a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her face. "Discerning?" she echoed, a touch of skepticism lacing her tone.

Enid's smile widened, a touch of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Well, Addams," she began, leaning forward slightly, "it turns out even unconventional pursuits like dance can find a lucrative audience these days. There's something undeniably captivating about expressing oneself through movement, wouldn't you say? A bit like your own macabre masterpieces, perhaps?" A thoughtful pause followed. "Though, I admit," she continued, her voice dropping a touch, "detective work always seemed more your style."

Wednesday snorted softly. "The notion of government bureaucracy suffocates me," she muttered, a hint of disdain coloring her voice. "Besides, their methods for 'problem-solving' are far too... pedestrian."

Enid's eyebrow arched playfully. "So, you prefer a more... intellectual approach to extracting information? No tasers, no damsels-in-distress scenarios?" she teased.

Wednesday paused, the rhythmic clatter of her typewriter ceasing. Her gaze met Enid's, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her dark eyes. "Precisely," she finally replied in a clipped tone.

A smile tugged at Enid's lips. "Glad you could make it then, Wends," she said, the use of her name a subtle test.

Wednesday's lips twitched in response, but she offered no correction. Instead, she looked away, her attention drawn to a swirling pattern on the table.

A beat of silence hung in the air. Then, with a seemingly casual inquiry, Enid asked, "So, are you seeing anyone these days?" Her fingers fidgeted ever so slightly, a telltale sign of nervousness that didn't escape Wednesday's sharp observation.

A flicker of amusement, quickly masked by indifference, crossed Wednesday's face. The knowledge that Enid was nervous somehow empowered her. "Isn't that rather obvious, Sinclair?" she replied, her voice a low murmur.

Enid's eyes widened momentarily before a small laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, come on, Addams, don't play coy. I meant romantically."

Wednesday met her gaze, her voice devoid of emotion. "The concept of romantic entanglements holds no particular interest for me."

A faint blush crept up Enid's neck. "Right," she mumbled, sinking back into her seat. "Just thought I'd ask. Me? No gorgon anymore. Turns out, he wasn't such a charming prince after all." Her voice trailed off, a hint of bitterness lingering in the air.

Wednesday's brow furrowed in curiosity. "Elaborate, Enid," she prompted, her voice devoid of judgment.

Enid fidgeted, her gaze flickering away from Wednesday's intense stare. "It just wasn't... a good fit," she stammered, biting her lip. "He felt I wasn't affectionate enough, and…" her voice trailed off, a mix of frustration and embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Let's just say, his expectations regarding sex were far from mutual."

A flicker of cold anger sparked in Wednesday's eyes, a sharp contrast to her usual stoicism. "The coercing of affection," she stated in a low, dangerous tone, "is a particularly repugnant tactic. Sexual gratification should be a shared experience, built on mutual desire and respect. Anything less is a grotesque violation."

Enid winced slightly at Wednesday's blunt assessment, but a flicker of gratitude shone through her eyes. "Exactly." she whispered; her voice barely audible.

Enid bolted upright; phone clutched in her hand. "Shit, I'm late! See you next Wednesday, Addams. I’m defo snagging your next book!" Her hand hovered for a moment, a playful smile tugging at her lips, before she dashed out the cafe.

Wednesday watched the empty doorway, the warmth that seemed to emanate from Enid leaching from the room. Hours had passed since Enid left with Wednesday leaving early returning to her apartment, yet Wednesday already missed the vibrant energy she brought. With a disgruntled grunt, she reached for her phone, her gaze drawn to Enid's Instagram profile once more.

Scrolling through the curated feed, a sardonic smirk played on her lips. A misplaced like?  Shrugging Enid had thousands, she continued scrolling until a notification blinked on the screen. A text. Wednesday sat up straighter, a blush creeping up her neck as she read the first line.

Why'd you like my picture? Missing me already, Wenny <3?

Wednesday glared at the offending phone, willing it to melt. Her cheeks burned hotter as she typed a scathing reply.

Don't call me Wenny. - Wednesday

Asserting dominance, after all. But the smug satisfaction she expected was replaced by a scoff as an immediate reply popped up.

You never denied it ;)

Wednesday rolled her eyes, a small, involuntary twitch betraying her amusement. She tossed the phone onto the bed before exiting the messages, only to be met with a new notification – a follow request from Enid. A silent struggle played out on her face before she grudgingly accepted.

Moments later, her phone buzzed again, this time with an unknown number. With a practiced deadpan, she answered, ready to unleash a torrent of Addams wit.

"I'll rip your ski—"

The threat was cut short by a familiar, infectious giggle. "Easy there, Addams. Werewolf strength and all that. This kitty has claws, you know."

Wednesday could practically hear the smirk in Enid's voice. She sighed, a hint of annoyance laced with a subtle, surprising warmth. "Sinclair, how in the world did you get this number?"

A playful pause followed. "A magician never reveals their secrets."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the rustle of fabric. "Look, I miss you, Wends," Enid confessed, the playful lilt replaced by a genuine vulnerability. "Even if it's only been a few hours. And guess what? I already got your book!"

Wednesday felt a reluctant softening in her tone. "I hardly require your critique," she managed, a hint of defensiveness lingering.

"Too late, Wenny," Enid countered, her voice laced with mock seriousness. "And let me tell you, it's fantastic! Halfway in, and I can already feel the raw emotion pulsating off the page."

This time, Wednesday couldn't help a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “Thank you, Enid.”

Enid's brow furrowed. "Viper and Edith... there's a certain electricity in the air, wouldn't you say?" Her voice was a low murmur, testing the waters. Wednesday thrived on logic, and Enid knew a blunt statement about "romantic tension" wouldn't fly.

Wednesday, usually unflappable, went quiet. "The fans," she finally muttered, a hint of frustration in her voice. "They never seem to grasp the characters. All this 'shipping' nonsense..." She scoffed. "Do they think I write about ships? There's a murder to solve, not people to ship."

Enid couldn't help but stifle a laugh. "Shipping, Wednesday, means they want the characters together. The tension? It's all in the way they look at each other, remember? You spend paragraphs dissecting their gazes. Viper lets Edith on missions, gives her special treatment... it's endearing, sure, but from an outsider's perspective, it looks like a slow burn."

Wednesday's posture stiffened, her glare sharper than usual. "I wouldn't know anything about slow burns," she snapped, her voice tight. "I write macabre violent masterpieces, not love triangles. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a deadline to meet." Before Enid could protest, the line went dead.

Enid stared at the phone, a worried frown replacing her smile. "Wednesday, wait!" she cried, but only silence answered.

With a sigh, she pressed the redial button. The phone rang once, twice... then Wednesday's voice, laced with a surprising vulnerability, answered. "Enid?"

"I... I apologize," Enid stammered. "I just... I miss you. I wanted to be there, to listen as you write."

A beat of silence. Wednesday knew the apology held a deeper meaning, unspoken but understood. "You can't be here, Enid. I'm in my—" She stopped midsentence, a flicker of surprise crossing her face as she glanced at the screen. There, beaming back at her, was Enid's face.

"The wonders of technology, wouldn't you agree?" Enid's smile was soft, genuine. A faint blush crept up Wednesday's neck, but she quickly schooled her expression.

Placing the phone down strategically, Wednesday stood and walked towards her writing nook. "Does this work?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Enid's smile widened. "Absolutely perfect. Now get to work, Wenny."

Two weeks had bled into one another, punctuated only by the nagging silence of Enid's absence. A text message arrived, a flimsy excuse about a new dance routine consuming Enid's every waking hour. Wednesday scoffed, a cynical amusement flickering across her face as she glanced at the clock – eight pm.

With practiced efficiency, she unravelled her braids, their intricate pattern a testament to her meticulous nature. They were swiftly rewoven into a secure crown, a symbol of control in a world brimming with chaos. A black turtleneck and a crisp white collared shirt formed the base, a stark contrast to the tailored black jacket and skirt.

 High socks and Doc Martens completed the ensemble, an embodiment of both practicality and defiance. Her reflection met her gaze, a silent nod of approval. This was Wednesday Addams, perfectly prepared for whatever the evening might hold.

The manuscript lay open on the table, its pages still bearing the scars of editorial battles. Wednesday had meticulously excised the "gruesome" scenes her skittish manager deemed too unsettling for the public. A low growl rumbled in her throat, a barely contained frustration. Leaving the house, she braced herself for the impending meeting, a necessary evil in the publishing game.

The manager beamed, their enthusiasm radiating an almost nauseating cheerfulness. "Book signings and talk shows, Ms. Addams! We've had a surge of interest in your work."

Wednesday took a measured sip of her black coffee, the bitter taste mirroring the cynicism twisting her lips. "Elaborate," she commanded, her voice a well-honed instrument for extracting information.

The manager, unfazed, outlined a promotional plan centered around a Wednesday Addams-themed book launch event. Wednesday's face contorted in distaste. Public interaction was a tiresome necessity, but the idea of a spectacle built around her name was abhorrent.

"Signing books, answering questions... the usual?" the manager prodded, their pen poised over a notepad.

A tense silence stretched, thick with Wednesday's barely suppressed annoyance. Finally, she conceded, "Very well. Expedite the process, if possible."

The talk show proposal followed, met with a curt nod and a request for scheduling details. As the clock struck nine thirty pm, Wednesday declared, "This meeting is adjourned. My schedule prioritizes productivity, not frivolous self-promotion."

The quiet streets offered a temporary respite. Wednesday closed her eyes, inhaling the crisp night air, when a muffled sob shattered the serenity. Following the sound, she found Enid huddled in an alleyway, a stark contrast to her usual flamboyant attire. A flicker of something unfamiliar, perhaps even concern, flickered in Wednesday's eyes covering it as she walked closer.

"An interesting choice of attire for an alley dweller, wouldn't you agree, Sinclair?" Wednesday stated, her tone devoid of warmth, but not entirely devoid of a morbid fascination.

Enid looked up, surprise momentarily chasing away the tears. "Right, I'm just... trying to avoid the paparazzi." Wednesday stared at Enid, a foreign sensation prickling at the edges of her composure.

"You're exhibiting an upset display," Wednesday ventured, the clinical term a shield against unfamiliar emotions. “Why?”

Enid hugged her legs close, her voice muffled against the wall. "Because I'm upset, Wednesday. I know you wouldn't understand that concept, but it's a common reaction to sadness." She glared through tear-filled eyes.

Wednesday clenched her fist, the unfamiliar sensation of helplessness warring with her usual stoicism.

The door slammed shut with a violence that echoed in the cavernous room. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot, a detached observer to the sound that reverberated in her skull. A curious tightness constricted her throat, an anomaly in her usual well-oiled machinery. Ignoring the unwelcome sensation, she focused on the spectral silence that followed.

A cold dampness crept down her cheeks, a revelation that sparked a flicker of morbid amusement. Tears, those messy lubricants of the sentimental, were attempting a pathetic insurrection.

 With a grimace that could curdle milk, she brushed at the dampness, the gesture more a formality than a genuine attempt to quell the flow.

The catalyst for this biological betrayal remained quiet. Enid's hasty retreat. The Addams curse, targeting the utterly frustrating Sinclair.

Wednesday sank to the floor, seeking solace against the cool surface of the stained-glass window as a sob escaped her mouth without permission. The grotesque glass depicted offered a more comforting companionship than the inexplicable turmoil within.

Wednesday, ever stoic, avoids eye contact, taking a shallow breath that barely registers. "The concept of processing emotional states is a tenet of therapy," Wednesday intones, her voice flat, a hint of disgust twisting her features. Enid can't help but crack a small smile. "It's supposed to...alleviate melancholy," Wednesday concedes, her voice softer than usual. Her dark eyes finally meet Enid's, a flicker of empathy surprising Enid so much she gasps.

"Would you care to elaborate, Enid? Is this...busyness the source of your distress?"

Enid fidgets, guilt gnawing at her. "I apologize for snapping earlier. The upcoming dance competition has me...stressed, to say the least. Excited, too, but..." she trails off, her gaze falling to the floor. "My mother isn't thrilled with my choice."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, genuinely confused. "Werewolves, as I understand it, are a pack-oriented society. Distance is discouraged, particularly during full moons."

Enid notices Wednesday's bewilderment. "Right, well, see, with werewolves, it's like...they stay with their pack, you know? We rely on each other, especially during full moons. It was a choice: stay with the pack or pursue my dream of becoming a real dancer. And guess what I chose?" Enid's voice cracks. "My mom sees it as a betrayal."

The air hangs heavy. Wednesday observes Enid closely, a flicker of something akin to concern crossing her face. Enid shivers, and Wednesday, in a surprising move, stands and sits beside her friend. Making direct eye contact.

Enid tears well up. "They never felt like my pack, Wednesday. It was always her...manipulating me!" Her voice breaks. "I couldn't be myself, It felt like I wasn’t allowed. Every attempt resulted in shit!" Enid leans her head against the wall, defeated.

"I did everything to please her," Enid continues, her voice strained. "She tried to control my life, even my romantic one! She hated my looks, Wednesday, even my wolf! My own fucking wolf! I couldn't even run with her. She'd look at me with such...disappointment, hatred. And in a twisted way, I craved her approval." Enid shudders. "My dad? He just...watched. Even when she hit me."

A tense silence descends. Wednesday's grip tightens on her jacket.

"She called me, drunk, about an hour ago," Enid whispers, tears streaming down her face. "The usual tirade. She hates my life here, says it'll never amount to anything, that I'm a failure. I tried so hard, Wednesday, to make her see that I'm...enough. I thought becoming a full werewolf would do it, but it just made things worse. At Nevermore, all I had was you."

Enid wipes her eyes with her wrist, her voice thick with emotion. "I had other friends, of course, but..." she looks at Wednesday, her eyes searching. "Honestly, you were all I needed. And i still do. You felt, feel, more like home than home ever could."

A faint blush creeps onto Wednesday's cheeks. She glances at Enid's lips, momentarily speechless.

Enid leans in slightly, a playful smile replacing her tears. "We had our fair share of arguments about you, that's for sure." Enid chuckled, "And I defended you fiercely," Enid adds, a hint of pride in her voice. She lets out a small, watery chuckle.

A comfortable silence settles between them. After a while, Enid sighs.

"It's strange, isn't it? Even now, all I want to hear is my mother say she's proud of me. I'd accept her with open arms, even after everything. Isn't that pathetic? She keeps hurting me, and all I want is her love. To be enough, to be loved, in someone's eyes, anyone's."

Enid looks at Wednesday, a flicker of despair crossing her features. Wednesday, with an uncharacteristic display of empathy, removes her jacket and drapes it over Enid's shoulders.

"Family," Wednesday begins, her voice softer than usual, "is supposed to be a source of unwavering support. Your mother doesn't deserve you, Enid. Not one bit." Her dark eyes hold a glint of protectiveness. "You're an exceptional dancer, and your wolf is magnificent. To be blessed with such a creature makes me envious."

Enid's breath catches in her throat. Tears well up again, threatening to spill over. She clutches Wednesday's jacket close, the warmth a stark contrast to the coldness she's grown accustomed to at home. "Wends..." she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

"Your scars, Enid," Wednesday continues, her gaze unwavering as she glanced at the three strikes, two on her cheek the other on her forehead. "they're a testament to your strength. You, Enid Sinclair, are magnificent. You are enough, to anyone, and especially to me."

Enid stares at Wednesday glancing at her lips, stunned into silence. A blush creeps up her neck, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Wednesday, ever uncomfortable with displays of vulnerability, looks away, clearing her throat.

"Speaking of nightmare moms," Wednesday drawled, a dark glint flickering in her eyes, "I wonder if, hypothetically, poisoned fruitcake falls under the umbrella of 'accidents'? Maybe a strategically placed nut allergy could expedite... a certain farewell."

Enid, unsurprised by Wednesday's macabre musings, raised an eyebrow. "Whoa there, Wednesday," she began cautiously. "Are you seriously considering-"

Wednesday cut her off with a sharp glare, but this time, a flicker of something uncharacteristic flickered across her face. Perhaps a hint of annoyance at being interrupted. Before she could retort, Enid's hand landed gently on hers. The warmth surprised Wednesday, momentarily breaking her morbid train of thought.

She looked up at Enid, her usual stoicism momentarily faltering. Enid's gaze held a mix of concern and amusement. Wednesday, after a barely perceptible pause, offered a minuscule nod of acknowledgment, her grip tightening slightly on Enid's hand. The physical contact felt... familiar, she didn't pull away. Perhaps it was the unexpected grounding effect, or maybe just the novelty of it all.

"Purely hypothetical, of course," Wednesday finally deadpanned, her voice regaining its usual monotone, though a hint of the earlier disquiet lingered in her eyes. "But the logistics are undeniably fascinating. Hiding evidence, plausible deniability..."

Enid sighed, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Wednesday, a mask of stoicism firmly in place, endured the throngs of fans. Her mind, however, couldn't help but dwell on the cryptic emoji message from Enid a week prior since their talk. Two hours in, the line dwindled to a mere three. The first gushed about the book, particularly Viper and Edith. Wednesday offered a curt nod, a flicker of something dark flickering across her face.

The line thinned, and the next fan to approach Wednesday exuded an aura of quiet intellect. "Ms. Addams," she began, her voice measured, "your portrayal of Viper and Edith is fascinating. Their dynamic subverts societal expectations in a way that resonates with the LGBTQ+ community. It's refreshing to see characters who define themselves, not stereotypical tropes."

Wednesday, genuinely intrigued by this perceptive analysis, tilted her head a fraction. "An astute observation," she conceded, her voice devoid of its usual monotone. “I didn't explicitly craft a romantic narrative, Edith, you see, possesses a certain fluidity in her attractions. Viper, however," she continued, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes, "finds sentimentality a detriment to both logic and survival. Frankly, I wouldn't waste my time, or the reader's, with predictable tropes of hearts and flowers."

The woman smiled, a spark of satisfaction in her eyes. Wednesday returned the book, a dry murmur escaping her lips. "The thought of this being dissected online in a superficial manner fills me with a predictable level of tedium," she muttered, already anticipating the inevitable social media frenzy.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Wednesday, ignoring it with practiced ease, reached for the next book. Suddenly, a familiar touch grasped her hand. She shot up, her gaze meeting Enid's. A mischievous glint danced in Enid's eyes, a stark contrast to Wednesday's usual stoicism.

"Sinclair," Wednesday drawled, a hint of amusement flickering beneath her surface. "Bold move, interrupting my literary duties."

Enid, unfazed, grinned. "Couldn't wait for a proper autograph, Addams," she teased.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, a subtle challenge in her gaze. "Later would have sufficed. Today is Wednesday, after all."

Enid shrugged, her smile unwavering. "Just wanted to see you," she whispered, leaning in with a conspiratorial wink.

Wednesday, internally acknowledging a flicker of something unfamiliar, signed the book with a brief message. "Thank you for coming, Enid Sinclair."

Enid stood up, winking. "Not a problem, Wednesday Addams." She disappeared into the crowd, pulled for photos with fans.

The book signing finally drew to a close. Stepping out, Wednesday glanced at the time, frowning. Packing up took longer than expected. Suddenly, the world tilted. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and a disorienting image of a bar, flashing lights, and the sound of yelling flooded her senses. She gasped, blinking back a surge of disquiet as reality reasserted itself. The world righted itself, and when her vision cleared, she found herself standing in the middle of a bustling street, the sounds of traffic replacing the bar's cacophony.

Panic flickered in her eyes, quickly masked by a practiced indifference. Before she could react, a hand reached out, warm and steady. It was Enid, her concern evident.

"Wednesday? Are you alright?" Enid's voice was laced with concern.

Wednesday opened her eyes slowly, her gaze landing on something soft. She realized it was Enid's jacket, which she'd instinctively grabbed for support. With a practiced nonchalance, she brushed herself off. "Perfectly fine," she muttered, a hint of annoyance lacing her voice. Public displays of concern were an annoyance, and the disorientation added another layer of irritation.

Enid, sensing Wednesday's disquiet, hesitantly reached out to touch her cheek. A barely perceptible blush crept across Wednesday's face, which she quickly masked with a glare. Just then, a flash of light pierced the gloom. Paparazzi.

Wednesday's glare sharpened. "One more photo," she drawled, her voice dripping with morbid amusement, "and I assure you, finding body parts scattered across the city will be the least of your worries. Consider it a public service, a social experiment in the effectiveness of creative dismemberment."

The threat, delivered with a chilling nonchalance, sent a shiver down Enid's spine. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, scattered like startled pigeons. Enid couldn't help but stifle a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.

"S-sorry, Wednesday," she stammered, "I just... wanted to see if you were up for dinner. Cafe lunch is our usual routine, but I'm starved and-"

Wednesday cut her off with a sigh. "Fine. Dinner. My choice of establishment, though. And dress appropriately," she added, "I'll text you the address in an hour."

Enid's grin widened. "Consider it done, Addams," she chirped, practically bouncing away.

Wednesday stood ramrod straight outside the restaurant, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face - a rare and unwelcome guest. As Enid bounded into view, Wednesday couldn't help but register a jolt. Enid was a vision in a dark pink dress, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant getup. The high heels and the pulled-back hair with escaping bangs added a touch of unexpected elegance.

Wednesday's usual caustic wit was momentarily stunted. "You look..." she started, searching for the right word, "...presentable," she finally settled on, her voice a monotone as always.

Enid, unfazed, countered with a genuine smile, "And you, Addams, are actually stunning." A hint of pink crept onto her cheeks.

Wednesday, ever the stoic, simply offered a curt nod, the compliment leaving a subtle warmth beneath her usual icy demeanour. They entered the restaurant, and as Enid took in the opulent surroundings, her eyes widened.

"Wednesday," she whispered, a touch of panic in her voice, "this place is incredible! There's no way I can afford this."

Wednesday shot her a sidelong glance. "My choice of venue, my treat, mi Lobo." She snatched a menu, more to hide the unexpected blush creeping up her own neck than anything else. "Now," she continued, annoyance lacing her voice, "choose your sustenance and beverage before I spontaneously combust."

Enid, oblivious to Wednesday's inner turmoil, simply beamed at her. "Wednesday," she started, "I don't want you wasting your money on me."

"Consider it an investment," Wednesday retorted. "Now, choose."

Wednesday flagged down the waitress, barking out their orders before retreating back behind the menu. Enid stole another glance at Wednesday, a playful smile on her lips. Wednesday caught her eye and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

Enid's smile widened, the blush deepening. "Seriously, Addams? You're breathtaking."

Wednesday, unable to meet Enid's gaze for a beat, surprised even herself by muttering, "As are you, Sinclair."

The Wednesday lunch tradition had somehow morphed into regular dinners. Despite Enid's growing protests, Wednesday remained resolute, always picking the fanciest place and insisting on handling the bill.

"Wednesdays," Enid huffed as they exited another expensive restaurant, "you can't keep doing this! I have money, you know? You shouldn't waste it on everyone."

Wednesday, her usual stoic expression unreadable, did something unusual. Her eyes lingered a beat too long on Enid's colourful outfit, a playful glint sparking in their depths. "Nonsense, Enid," she drawled, her voice a low murmur. "You misunderstand. This isn't a waste. You aren’t just everyone.” Letting the silence hang heavy for a moment.

 Enid, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, faltered. A blush crept up her cheeks, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant demeanour. "Oh," she stammered, her voice dropping to an uncharacteristically hesitant whisper. Before Wednesday could dissect Enid's flustered state any further, a sudden wave of urgency washed over her.

"Actually, Wednesday," Enid blurted out, her voice laced with a tremor of poorly masked nervousness, "something major just came up. Gotta blast! See you later, okay?" Her smile, meant to be reassuring, failed to reach her eyes. With a hurried wave, Enid disappeared into the crowd.

Wednesday watched her go, a flicker of concern warring in her eyes. The fleeting glimpse of a familiar emotion on Enid's face, a emotion she remembered well.

Saturday arrived, a haven from the tedium of school. Wednesday, anticipating a productive writing session, settled at her desk, only to discover a dearth of paper. Annoyance flickered across her face. Thing, their ever-present manservant, was undoubtedly "hanging out" once more.

The mere thought of him using that term for his frivolous pursuits elicited a sardonic snort. For a fleeting moment, a morbid temptation flickered across her mind – a yearning for the satisfying weight of a noose, not as a means of self-harm, but as a macabre crafting project. However, she dismissed the notion once told it was socialising.

Leaving her room, Wednesday headed towards the library, only to be drawn to the sound of Enid's voice drifting from behind a towering bookshelf.

"It's not love, Yoko," Enid's voice held a note of exasperation. "You’re lucky I’m telling you this."

Yoko, a figure shrouded in shadow, raised an eyebrow. "Right, and that's why you make out with your goth roommate, the one notorious for flinging anyone who dares approach her across the lawn? Yet, here she is, allowing Enid Sinclair, her polar opposite in every way, to invade her personal space with these... 'platonic touches.'" Yoko's voice dripped with disbelief.

"There's no 'fucking,' Yoko! We simply… make out and hold eachother," Enid stammered, her voice laced with frustration. "Yes, she tolerates these only platonic touches, but that doesn't equate to love! Besides, I'm not attracted to girls. Ajax is… well, Ajax. I just require some… practice." Her voice trailed off, a hint of vulnerability peeking through.

"Enid, babes," Yoko countered, "our frequent club outings provide opportunity for your so-called 'practice.' However, these make outs only seem to occur during your Wednesdays."

"Enough, Yoko!" Enid snapped, tears welling in her eyes.

Yoko, sensing her distress, softened her tone. "Sorry, Enid. Perhaps you should consider... other possibilities." She offered a comforting arm around Enid's shoulder.

"I'm not gay," Enid mumbled, leaning into Yoko's embrace.

Yoko squeezed her friend reassuringly. "okay."

Wednesday, drawn to the unexpected vulnerability in Enid's voice and the emotion on her face, stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. Silently, she retrieved the missing paper and slunk back to her dorm.

Fury and frustration warred within her. Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Enid didn't feel anything, the girl who feels the most out of anyone? The kisses, the touches – were they meaningless? And Ajax, of all people? The mere thought of him ignited a burning envy within her. What did he possess that she, Wednesday Addams, lacked?

As she fumed, a morbid epiphany struck her. There was, indeed, one undeniable advantage Ajax had over her. An advantage she could never overcome.

He’s a boy.

Having endured several hours of tedious writing, Wednesday concluded that the Wednesday charade had reached its point of diminishing returns. The supposed entertainment value of observing Enid's social ineptitude had waned considerably.

With a sigh, she checked the time – eight pm. Time for the predictable evening routine: showering, meticulous braiding of her hair, and a brief foray into the realm of literature.

Glancing at the undisturbed state of Enid's side of the room, Wednesday noted her roommate's tardiness. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, quickly suppressed. Focusing back on her book, she attempted to lose herself in the narrative. Fifteen minutes later, the telltale creak of the door announced Enid's arrival.

Wednesday barely acknowledged Enid's presence as she settled onto the bed, book clutched in her hands. Formulating the termination of their nonsensical dining arrangement occupied her thoughts.

Yet, the words remained stubbornly unformed. Instead, she found herself performing the unexpected – extending her right hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread.

Enid, seemingly relieved, let out a sigh and nestled against Wednesday's shoulder. Her touch was light, hesitant at first, before her fingers intertwined with Wednesday's.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of something Wednesday couldn't quite identify.

Wednesday, ever the stoic observer, offered a curt nod, ready to return to her book. However, a further unforeseen development disrupted her plans. Enid's hand drifted upwards, brushing against Wednesday's cheek.

 Wednesday's gaze snapped up to meet Enid's, the latter inexplicably close. A blush, faint but undeniable, stained Enid's cheeks.

"I-I know you're reading," Enid stammered, her eyes lingering on Wednesday's lips, "but I… need this." Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

Wednesday's gaze swept across Enid's face, dissecting the tremor in her voice, the uncharacteristic vulnerability in her eyes. Logic dictated this was a calculated manoeuvre, a desperate attempt to maintain the charade.

Yet, a sliver of doubt pierced through Wednesday's usual cynicism. Despite the overwhelming likelihood of this being a ploy, she found herself offering a minuscule nod in reluctant agreement.

The discordant melody of pop music throbbed from the neon-vomit facade of the bar. Wednesday extricated herself from her morbid reverie, she trailed behind Enid without her knowledge. With a sigh that could curdle milk, Wednesday paused at the entrance, her distaste for the scene evident.

A voice, grating like fingernails on a chalkboard, pierced the air. "Well, well, well. Wednesday Addams gracing a den of iniquity? Colour me surprised," Yoko drawled, her smirk as irritating as a particularly persistent gnat. "Drowning your sorrows in subpar alcohol?"

Wednesday bestowed upon Yoko a withering glance. "Spare me the theatrics, Tanaka. Are you, by any chance, here to indulge Enid in her latest outing?"

Yoko blinked, momentarily disarmed. "Yeah, we hang out here most Wednesdays. Though, she's been pushing for more visits lately."

A sardonic scoff escaped Wednesday's lips. "How very Enid." Comprehension dawned on Yoko's face, morphing her smirk into a sneer.

"Oh, come on, Addams. Don't tell me you and Enid have been getting it on again?" Yoko pushed her glasses up, her gaze fixed on Wednesday.

A flicker of something akin to embarrassment crossed Wednesday's face, swiftly masked by a glare that could melt steel. "Tanaka, our interactions are strictly platonic. Unlike our...exploits in high school, a fact I'm certain you're well aware of." She cast a disdainful look at the bar. "Enid's current charade is as tiresome as it is transparent. She believes that...heteronormative coupling will somehow alter her fundamental nature."

Yoko's expression contorted into a mask of fury. "That's a low blow, Addams. Enid's journey of self-discovery has been tough. There are no casualties here."

Wednesday's hand clenched into a fist. "There are always casualties, Tanaka. But you wouldn't understand."

"Enlighten me, then," Yoko spat, her voice laced with a dangerous edge.

"The problem, Tanaka," Wednesday began, her voice low and dangerous, "is the lack of understanding."

A tense silence descended, broken only by the throbbing bass from within the bar. Yoko's bravado faltered, replaced by a flicker of something akin to fear. Wednesday, momentarily overwhelmed by a surge of unwanted emotion, pressed on.

"The last time I dared to offer such…clarity," she forced the word out, "she left. And the thought of losing her again…" Her voice trailed off, a tremor betraying the carefully constructed facade. Shame prickled at her skin for displaying such vulnerability.

"Then tell her," Yoko muttered, her gaze averted.

"Easier said than done, Tanaka. Perhaps you could…inform Enid of our encounter. Additionally, convey my unavailability for the foreseeable future. Urgent…business demands my attention."

The garish glow of the bar receded behind Wednesday as she retreated into the familiar gloom of the Addams apartment. Twenty minutes of brisk walking couldn't quite dispel the disquiet that gnawed at her. With a sigh that rattled the windowpanes, she locked the door, collapsing onto the dusty floor and hugging her knees to her chest.

"how dreadful," she muttered, the single word a damning indictment of the evening.

The next week was a masterclass in deflection. Every text, every chirpy voicemail from Enid was met with a studied silence. Wednesday channelled her frustration into a morbid frenzy, meticulously prepping for the release of El Cuervo Negro. Each task, each countdown tick on her laptop, was a deliberate wall between her and the unwelcome tangle of emotions Enid stirred.

Eight hours to go. A ghost of a smile played on Wednesday's lips as she eyed the completed manuscript beside her. A small triumph. Picking up a goblet, she poured herself a generous measure of vintage Addams wine. Just as she settled onto the couch, a jarring knock shattered the carefully constructed calm.

A tense silence followed. Wednesday narrowed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the intrusion. Then, a voice, choked with tears, seeped through the door.

"Wends, I know you're in there, please. I-I don't know where else to go."

Enid. The name hung heavy in the air. Wednesday's body tensed, a war waging between morbid curiosity and a primal urge to keep the door shut. But with a sigh, she relented, unlocking the door with a flourish.

"Explain your presence at this ungodly hour," Wednesday commanded, her voice attempting to devoid of warmth.

Enid, a hurricane of tears and mascara, stumbled inside, her gaze flitting around the stark black and white apartment. Wednesday, after locking the door with a decisive click, regarded the quivering form with a mixture of annoyance and…unease.

"Crying on my doorstep? Enlighten me, Sinclair."

Enid, her voice barely a whisper, launched herself into a hug, burying her face in Wednesday's shoulder. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through Wednesday. Her arms hovered awkwardly for a moment before hesitantly wrapping around the sobbing figure. Discomfort wrestled with a strange sense of protectiveness within her.

"W-Wends, please..." Enid choked out, clinging desperately.

A soft sigh escaped Wednesday's lips. "I'm here, Enid. Whatever it is, I'll…" The words died on her tongue as she noticed a livid mark staining Enid's cheek. Wednesday's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within.

"A name, Enid," she hissed, her voice low and lethal. "Tell me who did this, and I'll make them regret the day they were born."

Enid flinched, pulling back slightly. "M-my mother...she came with my siblings and it was awful, Wends. I couldn't stay, but I didn't want to bother you."

Wednesday cupped Enid's face, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Listen carefully, Enid I won’t repeat this," she began, her voice firm but laced with a hint of something…uncharacteristic. "You, Enid Sinclair, are never a bother and never will be.”

Enid's tears streamed down her face, each sob a fresh indictment. "She just kept going on and on," Enid stammered, wiping ineffectively at the moisture. "How I'd never find a mate, how I was a failure, a fuck up." The last word came out in a choked whisper.

Wednesday, her initial concern hardening into a familiar frost, released Enid from her embrace. With a swift, silent movement, she reached for a nearby hatchet, the polished wood glinting ominously. Her steps towards the door were purposeful, each one a thudding promise of retribution.

"Wednesday, wait!" Enid cried, scrambling after her and grabbing her wrist. "Please, not now. I just…I need you."

Wednesday froze, her gaze a glacial wasteland. A tense moment passed before she relented, a sigh escaping her lips like a gust of wind through a mausoleum. Slowly, she placed the hatchet back on its stand, the unspoken threat lingering in the air.

"Wine?" Wednesday offered, her voice flat. "luz solar," she added, a barely perceptible murmur that sent a flicker of confusion across Enid's tear-streaked face.

Ignoring Enid's query, Wednesday retrieved a glass and poured a dark red liquid. "You still have my sweater," she noted, her gaze flicking to the familiar black wool clinging to Enid's trembling form.

A blush crept up Enid's neck. "It's comfy," she mumbled, "and like I said, you feel like home."

Wednesday remained silent, her dark eyes observing Enid with an intensity that bordered on unsettling. Finally, with a hesitancy that surprised even her, she leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Enid's head. Another glass materialized in her hand, filled with the same crimson wine. She offered it to Enid without meeting her gaze, the gesture a rare display of vulnerability.

Enid, her lip gloss glinting in the dim light, took the glass cautiously. "I can stay here tonight, right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You may," Wednesday conceded, taking a sip of her own wine. The sight of the vibrant pink lip gloss jarred against the stark black coffee table, a discordant note in the apartment.

Enid smiled, a hint of relief washing over her features. She snuggled closer, resting her head on Wednesday's shoulder. "Yoko's busy with Divinia," she explained, "and I didn't want to intrude on their…couple time." Her fingers brushed against Wednesday's, a tentative exploration.

Wednesday's mind, however, was already racing down a different path. "What if I had a partner?" she mused aloud, the question hanging heavy in the air.

Enid's brow furrowed. "Wednesday, what are you going on about?"

"You mentioned not wanting to interrupt Tanaka and Divinia," Wednesday elaborated, her voice carefully neutral. "But what if your presence here disrupted me…and a partner?"

Enid's gaze drifted to Wednesday's lips, a flicker of something unidentifiable passing through her eyes. "Well, I didn’t think you'd be dating a man," she said, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.

Wednesday's cheeks flushed a faint pink. "You're correct," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "Because if I were dating, it wouldn't be a man."

Enid's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what?"

"Enid," Wednesday began, her voice low and measured, "I'm only attracted to females. Romantically, as others would say. I'm a lesbian."

Enid's grip on Wednesday's hand tightened. "But Tyler?"

Wednesday averted her gaze, staring at the countdown clock ticking mercilessly on her laptop. "A mistake. A manipulation tactic, even. I cared for him, yes, but there was never…that spark. After the kiss, I realized it was nothing more than a misplaced expectation."

Enid bit her lip, her touch lingering on Wednesday's hand. "Thank you for telling me," She whispered, her voice laced with something that sounded suspiciously like…understanding.

Wednesday scoffed, a hint of her usual self returning. "I never hid it, Enid. I simply…don't engage in romantic theatrics."

Enid's lips curved into a sly smile. "I know Wednesday." She leaned in, a playful glint in her eyes, and pressed a kiss to Wednesday's cheek. "Thank you for letting me stay."

Wednesday met her gaze, a blush painting a rosy hue across her pale skin. Her hand, as if by its own accord, moved from Enid's hand to rest gently on her waist.

Enid remained silent, her gaze flickered from one of Wednesday's dark eyes to the other, then down to her lips, lingering there for a beat too long. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a storm brewing beneath the surface calm. A spark of something, a defiance that simmered beneath Enid's usual bubbly exterior, ignited in her eyes.

With a boldness that surprised even her, Enid leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. "Honestly, Wednesday? I couldn't imagine you with a guy anyway." Her words hung heavy in the air, a challenge wrapped in a playful barb, but laced with a deeper meaning that sent a tremor through Wednesday.

Wednesday, her expression a carefully constructed mask, mirrored Enid's movement, one hand finding its way to firmly grip Enid's waist. The touch sent a jolt through them both, a silent counterpoint to Enid's whispered words.

 But beneath the stoic facade, a flicker of something akin to possessiveness flared in Wednesday's eyes.

"And who, pray tell, Sinclair," Wednesday drawled, her voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Enid's spine, "could you possibly imagine me with?" The question was a veiled invitation, a test of the unspoken tension that crackled between them, a challenge Enid dared her to answer.

Enid, emboldened by a newfound confidence, didn't back down. Instead, she inched forward, her breath warm against Wednesday's lips. "Me," she breathed, the single word a whispered confession that shattered the fragile peace.

The space between them vanished in a heartbeat. Enid closed the gap, her lips meeting Wednesdays in a clash of hesitant curiosity and raw emotion. Wednesday, surprised by the suddenness of the contact, reacted instinctively. One hand shot up, grasping Enid's jaw with a possessiveness that bordered on aggression, both a claim and a question.

The other hand, as if by its own will, found a home cradled behind Enid's head, anchoring her close, but not gently. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh there, a silent demand for submission that both surprised and thrilled Enid.

Enid, her own hands instinctively seeking purchase, dug her fingers into the fabric of Wednesday's sweater, gripping her tightly.

 A gasp escaped her lips as Wednesday tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss.

 The initial tentative exploration gave way to a fierce urgency, a hunger neither of them fully understood. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a delicious push and pull that left them breathless and yearning for more.

Enid remained glued to Wednesday's lips, the kiss a desperate exploration that bordered on frantic. Wednesday, for all her usual stoicism, responded with a surprising intensity. One hand tightened on Enid's waist, anchoring her close, while the other tangled itself in her hair, a gesture both possessive and vulnerable.

Enid, emboldened by the lack of resistance, broke the kiss with a gasp. But instead of pulling away, she trailed a line of kisses down Wednesday's jaw, each one deliberate and lingering. The sweet scent of Enid's lip gloss mingled with the faint, morbid musk that clung to Wednesday, creating a heady mix that sent a shiver down Wednesday's spine.

Suddenly, Wednesday tensed. Her grip on Enid's hair tightened, a silent warning that sent a tremor of delicious fear through Enid. "Enid," Wednesday breathed, her voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Enid's spine. It wasn't a question, nor a plea. It was a barely contained growl, a predator assessing its prey.

Enid, her heart pounding in her chest, met Wednesday's gaze. Her usual sunny smile was replaced by a determined glint, a spark of defiance that mirrored the darkness smouldering in Wednesday's eyes. Ignoring the unspoken warning, Enid leaned in, her lips pushed against hers fiercely.

Wednesday, processing the moment a fraction later, gently pushes Enid back a hair's breadth. Vulnerability flickers in her usually stoic eyes. "Enid."

Enid's eyes bulge, taking in the foreign sensation and the misplaced lip gloss staining Wednesday's mouth and neck. She scrambles back, a defensive blush creeping up her cheeks.

Scrambling to her feet, a mix of confusion and anger swirling in her gaze. "I-I'm not..." she stammers, searching for the right words, "like that, Wednesday!"

Wednesday rises, a flicker of dread crossing her features. "Enid," she starts, a touch sharper than usual, "be realistic. This?" She gestures to her lips, then to the smudged lip gloss on her neck. "You kissed me, Enid. Stop pretending to yourself."

Enid squares her shoulders, her voice rising with a mix of hurt and anger. "The hell I did! Wednesday, you're so messed up! Just because of... this..." she gestures vaguely between them, "doesn't mean anything! You don't get to project your weird love ideas onto me!"

A steely glint enters Wednesday's eyes. "Love? Who said anything about love?" she retorts, her voice low and dangerous. "This is about honesty. You can't keep denying who you are."

Enid steps closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Listen up, Addams. You don't get to tell me who I am. Maybe in your dark little world, you think this means something, but to me? You're just... Wednesday. And even if I liked girls, which I don't, it wouldn't be you."

Her jaw clenches, and she throws Enid a withering glare, the coldest, most venomous one she can muster. "Then get out." Each word is a barbed wire fence, sharp and unforgiving.

Enid flinched at Wednesday's sharp tone, a flicker of regret flitting across her face like a dying flame. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Before another word could be exchanged, Enid pushed past Wednesday and stormed out, slamming the door behind her with a bang that echoed through the empty house.

Wednesday stood frozen, the silence pressing down on her like a physical weight. A single tear escaped, tracing a cold path down her cheek. In a surge of frustration, she slammed the door shut herself, kicking it with her foot for good measure as if it were Enid she was lashing out at.

What felt like an eternity crawled by. Drawn back to the living room by an invisible force, Wednesday found Enid's forgotten lip gloss lying abandoned on the counter. A mix of sadness and frustration swirled within her, a tempestuous cocktail threatening to spill over.

Picking it up, she started to throw it away, a final act of discarding the memory. But her hand paused mid-air. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, she placed it back on the counter.

A glance at her phone revealed a forgotten peace offering – a location pin Enid had impulsively sent two months ago after one of their many spats. Compulsion warred with logic. Against her better judgment, a small spark of defiance ignited within Wednesday.

She needed to see for herself, to understand the tear in the carefully constructed world she thought they shared.

Changing into something more presentable, a silent rebellion against the disarray of her emotions, Wednesday followed the coordinates. The rhythmic thump of music from a nearby bar grew louder with each step, a physical presence pulsating in the night air. Her face hardened into a mask of icy resolve, a shield against the vulnerability threatening to consume her.

Pushing past the throng of people, the bar's cacophony washing over her like a wave, Wednesday scanned the room. There, in a dimly lit corner, Enid was lost in a passionate embrace with another person.

 The air seemed to suck the breath from Wednesday's lungs. Dread coiled in her gut, a viper tightening its grip. Tears welled up, blurring the scene before her as she made eye contact with Enid. The carefully constructed mask, the one that kept everyone at arm's length, crumbled to dust.

Without a word, Wednesday turned and walked out, the bar's noise a dull roar in her ears. Reaching the nearest trash bin, she flung the lip gloss in with a vengeance, the clatter echoing her shattered emotions. Tears threatened to stream down her face as she blocked Enid's number on every platform she could think of.

 The final act felt like a symbolic severing of a connection she hadn't even realized existed; a brutal reminder of the vulnerability she'd tried so hard to deny.

Wednesday spent the following weeks in a carefully constructed isolation. Enid's apologies, laced with a tremor that echoed Wednesday's own turmoil, were met with a studied indifference. The yearning for Enid's presence, a constant ache in her chest, warred with the betrayal that felt like an open wound. The Addams curse, a cruel twist of fate binding Enid to their darkness, gnawed at Wednesday. It should have been her, not Enid, ostracized and targeted. Yet, here she was, alone with her conflicting emotions.

Straddling her trusty Quad, Wednesday sought solace in the familiar rumble of the engine. Today was dedicated to the start of her writing her threequel. While her manager hadn't officially greenlit it yet, Wednesday held onto the familiar arrogance that considered it a formality. A buzz from her phone broke the concentration – not the anticipated call from her agent.

Disappointment tinged the air as she met Bianca at the park. Wednesday endured Bianca's usual chatter with practiced stoicism, only half-listening until a name pierced the monotony.

"Yeah, and like Enid..." Bianca trailed off, noticing the shift in Wednesday's posture.

"What about Enid?" Wednesday's voice was clipped, but a flicker of curiosity betrayed her indifference.

Bianca hesitated, then launched into a detailed account of a transformed Enid. The bars were deserted, the reckless abandon replaced by a haunting quietude. Enid seemed withdrawn, a shadow of her former vibrant self.

Wednesday offered a curt nod, a storm brewing beneath the surface. Relief battled with a simmering anger.

"Look, there's more," Bianca pressed on. "She's...different. She talks about you, Wednesday. A lot. How you two used to be inseparable, how much she misses..." Bianca's voice trailed off, unsure how far to tread.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed. "Misses what?"

Bianca took a deep breath. "She misses you, Wednesday. She feels awful about what happened. Guilt eats at her, and she can't seem to focus on anything else."

A heavy silence descended. Wednesday wrestled with the information, the carefully constructed walls around her heart starting to crumble. The image of a guilt-ridden Enid clashed with the anger that had fuelled her isolation.

"Look," Bianca said, her voice softening, "I know you two can be...intense. But maybe you should hear her out. Give her a chance to explain."

The suggestion hung heavy in the air. Wednesday stared at the horizon, the rumble of the approaching storm mirroring the turmoil within her. The need for answers, the yearning for connection, battled with the lingering hurt. The decision, when it came, was a reluctant one.

"Fine," Wednesday conceded, the word a concession rather than a surrender. "But tell her this forgiveness isn't a right, it's a privilege. And right now, that privilege is hanging by a very thin thread."

A couple of days bled into a tense silence. Wednesday stewed, a simmering frustration battling with a flicker of hope sparked by Bianca's words. Just as she was about to resign herself to Enid's silence, a hesitant knock shattered the quiet.

Placing down her knife with a clatter, Wednesday marched to the door. She opened it a crack, immediately tensing at the sight of Enid on the doorstep. Enid's face was a map of guilt, the vibrant colours Wednesday associated with her friend replaced by a dull ache mirrored in her sunken eyes.

Wednesday stepped aside to allow entrance, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed in the tense air. Back in the kitchen, Wednesday resumed chopping vegetables, the rhythmic thunk a shield against the storm of emotions brewing within her.

Enid shuffled in, her voice barely a whisper when she asked, "What are you making...?" The question hung in the air, a fragile attempt at normalcy.

Wednesday considered a snide remark but bit it back. "Patatas bravas," she muttered, focusing on the familiar task.

Enid nodded, her long, painted nails tapping a nervous rhythm against the counter. "Would you like some, Enid?" Wednesday glanced back, noticing the dark circles etching themselves beneath Enid's eyes. A pang of something akin to concern flickered within her.

"Oh, um, yeah, sure," Enid stammered, the familiar nickname catching in her throat. "Thank you, Wends...Wednesday," she quickly corrected.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Wednesday finished the meal, the hiss of the hot pot a punctuation mark in the tense atmosphere.

Turning back to Enid, Wednesday's voice was a low rumble when she finally spoke. "Talk."

Enid's eyes widened, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. She nodded, her voice trembling as she began, "R-right, um...Wednesday, I'm... no, I-I, just... I don't..." Her voice trailed off, replaced by shaky breaths and her nails digging into her thighs, leaving crescent moon marks.

Wednesday, surprised by the vulnerability on display, walked over to Enid. Gently, she grasped Enid's hands, her touch surprisingly comforting. "Breaths, Enid" Wednesday offered, her voice surprisingly gentle.

Enid looked up, searching Wednesday's face, her tears flowing freely now. "I love you, god, I love you," she confessed, the words tumbling out in a torrent of emotion.

Wednesday's eyes widened in shock, her carefully constructed mask momentarily slipping. "Wednesday, I don't know when it started," Enid continued, "but it was before that stupid kissing arrangement. I only wanted to because I wanted to kiss you. God, I've never wanted to kiss anyone more."

Wednesday's grip on Enid's hands tightened. The confession, raw and unexpected, resonated deep within her.

"I spouted such bullshit," Enid choked out, the frustration evident in her voice. "I couldn't admit I also liked girls. My mother...god, I'm already a disappointment, but liking girls on top of it? I didn't even know what that could mean for me." Tears streamed down her face as she cupped Wednesday's cheeks, her touch sending shivers down Wednesday's spine. "Even now, I crave her approval, and I took it all out on you. Every moment with you, I fell deeper, but I couldn't face it. So, I drowned myself in stupid bars, kissing random stupid guys, hoping it would make these feelings disappear."

Wednesday's brow furrowed, a tear slipping down her own cheek. "But I knew I messed up," Enid whispered, "when you welcomed me into your home, into your arms. I've never felt this connected to someone before. Every time you let me in, all I wanted to do was kiss that frown away."

A shaky smile played on Enid's lips as she wiped a tear from Wednesday's face. "I said such horrible things to you, Wednesday. I never meant any of it. You're the only girl I want, the only one I've ever truly desired. I don't just want you, Wednesday Addams, I need you."

The confession spilled from Enid's lips, a desperate plea for absolution. Her touch lingered on Wednesday's cheeks, a silent apology wrapped in a caress.

"I don't think I've ever needed anyone more than you, Wednesday," Enid whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "God, when we kissed that day...I've never felt such pure happiness."

A flicker of vulnerability crossed Wednesday's face, a fleeting glimpse into the storm of emotions brewing within.

"I know," Enid continued, her voice trembling slightly, "it'll take time. Time for me to prove how much you really mean to me. I messed up, Wednesday. Badly. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, Wends. You're more than just someone I care about, you're..." Enid's voice caught in her throat, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.

With a shaky breath, she leaned her forehead against Wednesday's, seeking solace in the physical connection. "You mean everything to me."

The confession hung heavy in the air, a fragile offering in the face of Wednesday's steely silence. Enid reached out, her thumb brushing away a tear that escaped Wednesday's carefully constructed facade.

Wednesday's response was swift. She grabbed Enid's shoulders, her grip surprisingly gentle despite the simmering anger beneath the surface. A single tear rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to the turmoil within. Enid watched, her own tears welling up again.

"You aren't a disappointment, Enid," Wednesday finally whispered, the words a reluctant concession. "Idiocy, yes, but never a disappointment."

Enid's breath hitched. The unexpected validation sent a wave of relief washing over her.

"Enid," Wednesday began, her voice carefully measured, "Your departure caused a significant emotional disturbance. " Her gaze locked onto Enid's, searching for understanding. "Then you did it again," she continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur. " Witnessing your…interactions with individuals was a source of frustration and elicited an unsettling disquietude within me."

Wednesday looked down, a rare vulnerability peeking through her stoic facade. "The intricacies of human emotion are a labyrinth I don’t yet understand," Wednesday conceded, her voice a low murmur. "Perhaps understanding is beyond my grasp entirely. However," she continued, her eyes locking onto Enid's with a newfound intensity, "a compelling directive compels me to remain by your side. You are, undeniably, mi hermoso lobo, Enid. And upon our reunion, a primal fear gripped me. The realization that even the Addams curse itself pales in comparison to the force that binds me to you was a revelation of undeniable potency."

Enid's heart ached at the raw honesty in Wednesday's words. She tightened her hold, offering silent comfort.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way, Wednesday," Enid whispered. "Before I could face you, I needed to be better. I wanted to give you the answers you deserved, the truth about my feelings."

"I appreciate your honesty," Wednesday continued, her voice still laced with a hint of disapproval. "However, the way you handled everything still stings."

Enid kept her hands on Wednesday's cheeks, her touch a tentative plea for understanding. "That's totally understandable, Wends," she admitted, her voice thick with remorse. "What I did was awful. I just..." Her voice trailed off, a question hanging in the air.

Enid pulled Wednesday closer, a silent plea for connection. "Will this...us...be okay?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Wednesday's gaze flickered down to Enid's lips, the unspoken desire a tangible presence in the room.

"In time," Wednesday conceded, the words a cautious promise. "I trust you to try and mend what you so carelessly broke."

Relief washed over Enid's face as the weight of her confession seemed to lessen. She started to tentatively ask, "Can we, would it be okay if we..."

The question died on her lips as Wednesday surprised them both. Leaning forward, Wednesday pressed her lips against Enid's. The kiss was hesitant at first, a tentative exploration of unspoken feelings. Enid melted into it instantly, her arms wrapping around Wednesday's waist to pull her closer.

When Wednesday pulled back, a genuine smile played on her lips, tears still glistening in her eyes. "You have dimples!" Enid blurted out, poking Wednesday's cheek with a playful finger. "How did I not know this?"

Wednesday's smile faltered for a moment, a playful glare entering her eyes. "Tell anyone..." she threatened, her voice barely a whisper.

Enid giggled, leaning up to peck Wednesday on the lips before showering her forehead with kisses and pulling her into a tight hug. "I know," she whispered, her voice thick with relief and affection.

Wednesday leaned her head onto Enid's shoulder, a comfortable silence settling between them. After a moment, she spoke, her voice barely above a murmur. "You always knew?"

Enid remained silent for a beat, then shook her head. "No," she admitted softly. "I figured it out when I came to your apartment to escape my family. But that's what scared me the most, I think."

Wednesday looked up at her, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. "The thought of me not reciprocating?"

Enid shook her head again, placing a gentle kiss on Wednesday's forehead. "The thought of you reciprocating. It meant I had a chance with someone I'd spent so long trying to deny myself a chance with."

A surprised smiled escaped Wednesday's lips. "Ever since you saved me from Tyler." she added, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her voice.

"Me too," Enid replied with a smile, squeezing Wednesday's hand.