Chapter Text
Wednesday did not hug people, unless it was a mere subterfuge to stab someone in the gut. Yes, close proximity was far easier to put someone ten feet under. So, when Enid barreled into her the way a rabid dog chasing a bone would, Wednesday was more than taken aback. She was outright appalled and ready to hiss at Enid for violating her boundaries in such a repugnant manner.
But when Wednesday kept Enid at an injured arm’s length and saw the blood and dirt caked onto her tear-stricken face, something inside of Wednesday shifted uncomfortably. Enid was hurt because she put her life on the line to save Wednesday. Enid wolfed out and fought the Hyde for her. Wednesday could have died tonight, but Enid saved her, and now it was her turn to be there for Enid.
Public displays of affection were the one thing worse than Wednesday’s severe allergy to color, and yet, she wrapped her arm around Enid and pulled her in before she changed her mind, feeling the little wolf hold on to her the way an anchor latched itself to the seabed. If any of their fellow students ever breathed a word of this, Wednesday would cut out their tongue and feed it to the wolves on the next full moon, even if said tongue belonged to one of them.
Enid was warm, similar to sitting in front of the fireplace and straying too close to the flames. Her nails clawed at Wednesday’s back with a desperate hunger, which was surprisingly not unpleasant. In fact, the slight scrape against her skin was a welcome gesture. Wednesday was vaguely aware of their fellow students watching them, so she closed her eyes to shut them out. All that mattered now was Enid.
Wednesday wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but when she opened her eyes, their peers were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had fallen into a coma, and this was nothing but a strange hallucination, conjured up by her subconscious.
“I-it hurts,” Enid whispered, whimpering. Wednesday knew right then it wasn’t a dream, for she would never dream of harming Enid. “Everything hurts.”
“I know,” Wednesday replied, familiar with the feeling of knocking on death’s doorstep. “I got you,” she told Enid, letting her lean on her shoulder.
The walk back to their dorm was slow, and with every step, Wednesday’s body ached. She felt the phantom of the knife twisting in her gut, despite Goody’s healing, and the way the arrow had lodged into her shoulder as she stepped in to save Xavier. If anyone was going to kill another student at Nevermore, it would be Wednesday, and only if she had a good reason to do so.
Enid limped, and Wednesday wished she had the strength to carry her, but she was no wolf. Making sure Enid was safe and looked after was the only thing keeping Wednesday from collapsing with her. She was indebted to Enid, and an Addams always paid their debts, one way or another.
A familiar sound of fingers pattering nearby caught up to them.
“Bath,” Wednesday mouthed at Thing.
Thing obliged, running along, disappearing into the fog.
When Wednesday and Enid reached their room, the space had filled up with steam and an overly sweet stench. The scent was so overwhelming that it almost drowned out the copper smell of blood. Almost, but not quite.
“W-Wednesday,” Enid gasped, eyes wide. “You’re bleeding.”
“Says you,” Wednesday replied, aware of her superficial arrow-induced wound, which was nothing compared to the gash on Enid’s neck and claw marks on her face. “The last thing you need to be doing right now is fret about me.”
“Of course I’m fretting! You’re my best friend, and you could’ve—” Enid’s words turned into a poorly muffled sob. “Wednesday, you almost…,” she whimpered, biting her lip.
“Hey,” Wednesday interrupted, taking Enid’s hands in hers, for Enid’s sake. “Enough of that,” Wednesday said, staring into Enid’s eyes, unsettled by the sight of her tears. “Please stop,” Wednesday pleaded when Enid’s sobs grew stronger.
“Enid,” Wednesday spoke through clenched teeth, feeling as powerless as she did the day her pet scorpion died. “Stop crying,” she demanded to no avail. “I’m alive,” she reminded Enid. “I’m alive,” Wednesday repeated, yanking Enid’s right hand closer and putting it against her chest.
The abrupt gesture put an excruciating strain on Wednesday’s need for personal space, but desperate times called for desperate measures. To her relief, the incessant tears stopped all at once. Finally, the torture that hurt more than being stabbed in the gut by a resurrected pilgrim had ceased.
“Wednesday, your heart…,” Enid whispered, staring at their joined hands. “Your heart is beating super-fast.”
“Satisfied?” Wednesday asked while she shoved Enid’s hand away, only to reach for it again the moment Enid lost her balance.
“There’s so much blood on you,” Enid said, trembling as she looked Wednesday up and down, and up again. “How are you still standing? How can you lose that much blood and not pass out?”
“My ancestor healed me,” Wednesday explained without delving into the details that would make someone as squeamish as Enid faint on the spot. “Now,” Wednesday pressed on, before being bombarded with a game of twenty questions. “Do you need a hand getting into the tub?”
Enid tripped over nothing but air.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wednesday noted, though she had figured as much.
“You want me to get naked… I-in front of you?” Enid asked, holding on to her coat with one hand while the other remained firmly in Wednesday’s.
Enid’s shame was misplaced and unwarranted, but Wednesday understood and respected the need for privacy. Her offer was never meant to violate Enid’s boundaries, as surprising as it was to find out she had one after all.
“I won’t look at you,” Wednesday promised, having no interest in voyeurism. She would rather go blind than observe people in an undressed state. “My eyes will be on yours, Enid. You have my word.”
Wednesday guided Enid toward their bathroom, keeping her eyes on Enid’s, as promised, not once breaking eye contact. Enid wriggled a little while she tried to take off her coat with one hand, gaze flitting toward Wednesday one second and moving away the next, over and over as though she worried Wednesday would look elsewhere.
“Somehow, you staring at me like that makes me feel even more naked,” Enid broke the comfortable silence Wednesday enjoyed for the minute it lasted. “It’s like you’re looking into my soul,” Enid added with a shudder.
“Fine, I’ll close my eyes,” Wednesday compromised before her patience ran out.
“Y-you…you’d do that?” Enid blinked, staggering a step that nearly sent both of them over the edge of the tub. “...For me?”
Wednesday didn’t understand the tone of surprise. “Why wouldn’t I?” she countered, tightening her hold on Enid’s hand so she wouldn’t stumble backwards into the water and hit her head on the marble.
“Wednesday, I’ve never even seen you blink!”
***
Whatever it was that Thing did to make their bathroom smell similar to cotton candy and hot chocolate made it hard for Wednesday to breathe without gagging. She was never a sweet tooth, preferring the balanced flavors of a quad over ice.
Wednesday heard the water sloshing around in the tub, the telltale sign of Enid finally getting in. Perhaps now, Enid could let go of Wednesday’s hands, unless doing so would cause Enid to slip underneath the surface. Wednesday could endure a few more minutes of being touched, she had survived worse things than a roommate.
“You can open your eyes now,” Enid said, and when Wednesday did, Enid was hidden under a thick layer of pink foam, save for her head.
“A bath bomb, really?” Wednesday hissed at Thing, jerking her hands free. “She is injured.”
Thing dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding the boot that Wednesday threw at him.
Wednesday wet a washcloth in the sink, ignoring the way her shoulder ached as she wrung it out. Xavier shouldn’t have brought a bow and an arrow to a sword fight, but at least he tried to help, and as far as friends went, Wednesday supposed he had the potential to be one of hers. The same went for Bianca, who proved surprisingly helpful when her distraction allowed Wednesday to stab Crackstone in the heart.
“This might sting,” Wednesday warned, dabbing Enid’s cheeks with the precision of a surgeon, careful not to rub the dirt into her wounds.
Enid smiled tiredly, and just when Wednesday thought she was going to fall asleep in the tub, Enid grabbed Wednesday’s wrist. It was gentle, not tight, and then Enid started rubbing circles with the pad of her thumb on the inside of Wednesday’s wrist.
Wednesday’s hand stilled. “What are you doing?”
“Feeling your pulse,” Enid answered while the warmth of her skin grew nearly unbearable. “It calms me, but if it’s too much, I can totally stop.”
“You may continue,” Wednesday decided, choosing to hold her tongue.
The white washcloth turned red from the blood Wednesday wiped away, revealing the severity of Enid’s injuries. Even with her wolf healing, she would be marked for life, covered in battle scars she valiantly earned.
“I need to stitch you up,” Wednesday said, discarding the washcloth. “Thing, get my medical kit and something for Enid to bite.”
Wednesday would offer Enid her hand to hold, but she needed both to thread the needle, and Wednesday preferred not getting her hand crushed by a sudden burst of wolf strength. She liked keeping her hands intact to write and play cello, among other things.
To Enid’s credit, she didn’t wince when Wednesday cleaned her wounds with alcohol. But that was the easy part.
“Not my snood,” Enid groaned when Thing offered it to her to bite down on.
“Shh,” Wednesday hushed, stuffing the snood in Enid’s mouth, which was better for both of them. “Try not to move,” Wednesday instructed as she prepared her tools.
Wednesday applied the sutures as quickly and precisely as she could, painfully aware of every tear rolling down Enid’s cheeks in the process. Wednesday had to brush away most of them to stop Enid from getting her stitches wet.
“All done,” Wednesday announced, brushing a strand of hair out of Enid’s face. Wednesday wasn’t sure why she did that, but it was too late to take it back.
It had to be the exhaustion, wearing Wednesday down and making it impossible for her to think clearly.
“Thanks,” Enid sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Thanks, Thing,” she smiled when Thing handed her a tissue.
Wednesday held out her hands to help Enid out of the tub, looking only at Enid’s blue eyes. As soon as Enid managed to climb out and find her footing, Wednesday wrapped a towel around her.
“O-oh,” Enid whispered, glancing down. “This is your towel,” she commented, and it was, but Wednesday’s black towels made out of the finest Egyptian cotton were far more superior than those colored synthetic pieces of fabric Enid brought with her and ought to burn.
Wednesday put her hands loosely on Enid’s shoulders. “Do you feel steady enough to put on your pajamas by yourself?” Wednesday asked, needing to freshen up as well, and check whether she had to stitch up her shoulder or not.
Enid nodded and walked out of the bathroom. Her movements rivaled those of a snail, but she seemed strong enough to cross the small distance to her bed alone.
Wednesday filled the sink with cold water as soon as the door clicked shut. She gripped the marble edges and dunked her head under, opening her mouth to scream. Principal Weems was dead, and Enid nearly got herself killed protecting Wednesday. And what did Wednesday do? She left Enid alone in the woods.
When Wednesday finished freshening up and putting six stitches into her shoulder, she found Enid on her bed, surrounded by her stuffed animals, hugging her arms around her legs. It made Enid look smaller and younger, but not weak. Enid was many things, but weak was not one of them.
Wednesday grabbed the pillow and blanket from her bed, putting them down on the floor next to Enid’s bed to keep an eye on her, in case she ripped her stitches or wanted to talk.
Enid climbed out of bed and joined Wednesday on the floor, visibly grimacing in the process.
“What are you doing?” Wednesday asked, staring at Enid.
“If you’re sleeping on the floor, then I’m sleeping on the floor, too.”
Wednesday sat up. “You are not sleeping on the floor, Enid.”
Enid propped up her pillow. “Watch me,” she huffed, burying the back of her head into the pillow.
Stubborn little wolf, Wednesday thought as she got up. She resisted the urge to stomp her feet, considering it was something petulant children did, and Wednesday was not a child.
Wednesday extended a hand to Enid, pulled her upright, and guided her to the other side of their room. If Enid insisted on being in the same space, then Wednesday’s bed it was.
The beds at Nevermore weren’t meant for two, but Wednesday could prop herself up against the wall to circumvent that problem. Sore muscles were an acceptable price to pay after what Enid went through.
Enid stopped and stared. “Are you sure?” she asked, as if Wednesday holding up her blanket for Enid to crawl underneath wasn’t obvious enough.
“I’m not sleeping in your bed, and I’m not letting you sleep on the floor. My bed will have to suffice.”
Enid sat down on the edge of Wednesday’s bed, giving her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. If she had to venture a guess, she would say Enid was happy.
Wednesday often found herself to be right, but oh, how she had wanted to be wrong when Enid moved closer and cuddled with her. So this was what it was like to die a slow, agonizing death.
Within seconds, Enid was softly snoring. Wednesday wasn’t sure what to do with her hands in the odd position she found herself in. If Enid wasn’t hurt, Wednesday would have shoved her out of her bed and threatened to cut off her arms.
Wednesday’s skin felt as though it was on fire, trapped in the wolf’s embrace.
“Soft pillow,” Enid mumbled in her sleep.
“I’m not a pillow, Enid,” Wednesday said as the space between them grew non-existent. “Enid,” she hissed at the sleepy little wolf, who didn’t stir.
Wednesday made a mental note to buy a bed made out of pure silver and decorate it with wolfsbane. Lots and lots of wolfsbane.
***
Wednesday was nearly finished packing the bags – Enid’s, not hers – when the door creaked open.
Finally, after thirteen minutes and forty-one seconds, Enid had returned. Not that Wednesday was counting. No, she merely kept track in case Enid stayed away too long and Wednesday needed to organize a search party. One more minute and nineteen seconds, and she would have started breaking down doors.
“I talked to Ajax,” Enid shared with a sigh, and for a brief moment, her lips curled into a pout similar to the face a kicked puppy would make. “We decided we’re better off as friends than boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Wednesday wasn’t keen on getting involved in other people’s disgustingly saccharine need for intimate relationships, but Enid was already wounded. Wednesday didn’t want her roommate to bleed emotionally, too. She found no satisfaction in seeing Enid hurt. Others, however, such as a particular stoner, deserved to suffer.
“Are you okay?” Wednesday asked, taking a step closer in case Enid needed a hug to compose herself.
“Mhmm,” Enid nodded, sucking her lips into her mouth before releasing them with a wet pop. “I guess almost getting my neck snapped on my first night wolfing out was a bit too much for him, and it was nice while it lasted, but we have nothing in common.”
Wednesday’s nostrils flared. “Tyler tried to snap your neck?” she seethed through gritted teeth, and while Wednesday had no fangs or claws to speak of, she would find a way to tear out Tyler’s throat as violently and excruciatingly painful as possible.
“It’s fine,” Enid brushed off, running her fingertips across the wound that said differently. “I won.”
“Fine?” Wednesday spat with the venom of a thousand scorpions, and when Enid flinched, she regretted raising her voice at her. “That is far from fine, Enid,” Wednesday said, keeping her volume down despite the rage roaring in her chest. “You could have died, and Ajax turns his back on you?”
That spineless coward was never good enough for Enid, and this was indisputable proof.
Wednesday felt her nails digging into the palms of her hands, threatening to draw blood if she didn’t stop clenching her fists, but she didn’t care. “I will find Ajax and I will staple his snakes to the wall one by one,” she hissed, wanting to connect her fists with his face. “I will scoop out his eyes with a spoon and force them down his throat. I will—”
The sight of Enid smiling at her with twinkles in her eyes resembling the stars at night made Wednesday stop in her tracks.
“Why are you smiling?” Wednesday asked, and she wasn’t easily unsettled, but that smile was entirely unsettling. She needed Enid to stop looking at her like that immediately, before she turned gravely ill from whatever disease this was.
“Okay, please don’t smother me in my sleep for saying this,” Enid said, holding up her hands, which was ironic considering she was the one doing the smothering last night. “But you’re cute when you’re angry.”
Wednesday’s eyes widened at the insult. “Say that again, and I will put spiders in your bed.”
Wednesday was neither cute nor angry. She was furious, and while her threats were hardly taken seriously by her roommate, she would maim Ajax in a heartbeat if Enid allowed her to.
Enid frowned as she looked at her bed. “Are those my bags?”
“What an astute observation, Enid,” Wednesday deadpanned, staring at the hideously colorful suitcases.
“You went through my things while I was gone?” Enid said. Crap, Wednesday should have asked. “And you didn’t break out in hives?” Enid gasped, smiling in that way again. “Why, it’s a miracle!”
“One more word out of you, and I’m tying you to the roof along with your things.”
“You don’t fool me, Wednesday,” Enid shook her head. “I know you like me too much to go through with your threats.”
What a preposterous thing to say. Wednesday did not like people. At best, she tolerated a few.
“Say your goodbyes,” Wednesday said as she approached her roommate, who was smart enough to swallow. Hard. Finally, a modicum of respect for her frightful appearance. “We leave in five minutes.”
“Oh, okay,” Enid nodded and turned toward the door. “Wait,” she paused, whipping her head around, wincing as she did. “What do you mean, we?”
“I’m taking you home to stay with me.”
Enid blinked. “You’re…kidnapping me?”
“It’s not kidnapping if you go willingly.”