Chapter Text
Enid had been dreading the trip before she even packed her bag. Her parents had insisted she come home for a weekend“family time,” they called it but for Enid, it felt more like emotional endurance training. She’d argued half-heartedly that she had assignments to finish and things to do at Nevermore, but Wednesday, ever pragmatic, had given her one of those dark, steady looks and said, “You should go. Avoiding confrontation only feeds it.”
Easy for her to say. Wednesday actually liked confrontation.
So Enid went.
From the moment she arrived, her parents’ house felt smaller somehow, colder, even though it was full of light and warmth and the smell of baked bread. Her mom smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her dad hugged her, a bit stiffly. Her brothers barely looked up from their screens.
And almost immediately, the questions began.
“Have you been studying properly, Enid?”
“Your hair’s darker. You’re not trying to change yourself for someone, are you?”
“You’re still… sharing a room with that Addams girl?”
Enid tried to laugh it off, but every word hit like a pinprick. “Yeah, Mom. Wednesday’s great. She’s...well, she’s Wednesday.”
Her mother frowned slightly, setting down a mug of tea. “Sweetheart, we just worry she’s… influencing you. You’re not as bubbly as before.”
Enid stared at her, then smiled politely. “I’m still me. Just… a bit more me, maybe.”
That night, lying awake in her childhood bed surrounded by posters she’d outgrown, she missed Nevermore. Missed the creak of their dorm floorboards, the smell of ink and candle wax, the sound of Wednesday typing at night. She missed the quiet certainty that, even if no words were said, she was seen.
Meanwhile, back at Nevermore, Wednesday was exactly as she appeared to be: completely unaffected.
Or at least, that’s what everyone assumed.
Without Enid’s chatter filling the dorm, the silence felt deeper, heavier. The typewriter echoed louder. Her cello sounded sharper, colder. The tiny splash of color that usually came from Enid’s corner of the room was absent, replaced by perfect order.
She told herself she preferred it that way.
But she found herself glancing at the empty bed a few times, more often than she liked to admit. Once, she even caught herself staring at Enid’s favorite sweater draped over the chair and felt something unfamiliar: irritation that it wasn’t being worn.
The students at Nevermore noticed, too.
Wednesday Addams, already a legend of sorts, seemed sharper than ever. Her responses in class were even more cutting. Her fencing matches ended faster. Her gaze was icy enough to make even Xavier flinch.
Some of her classmates whispered that she’d gone through another “dark phase.” Others said she was working on something sinister again.
And then, of course, there were the admirers, the ones who seemed to love her most when she was at her coldest.
A few of them gathered near her usual table in the quad, pretending not to stare while clearly hanging on every motion she made. One particularly bold student, a tall vampire from her botany class approached her one afternoon as she was writing.
“Wednesday,” he said with a smile that was meant to be charming. “You seem… different lately. I like it.”
Wednesday didn’t look up. “Then I recommend you find a mirror and continue your narcissistic observation there.”
He blinked, thrown off. “I was just saying...”
“That your taste in conversation is as poor as your choice in cologne?” she finished dryly. “Fascinating. You may leave now.”
Her fans, predictably, loved it. They whispered that she was “back,” that she’d “reclaimed her dark energy.” One even tried to take a picture of her mid-scowl until Thing appeared behind them and made them drop their phone in terror.
Wednesday returned to her writing, pretending not to notice.
But that night, when the halls were quiet and the shadows long, she paused over her typewriter. Her hand hovered above the keys, but she didn’t start a new sentence. She simply stared at the page, blank, for once and admitted to herself, if only in thought, that the room was intolerably still without Enid’s laugh in it.
She sighed, almost imperceptibly, and muttered, “Infuriating creature.”
Then she turned off the lamp and sat in the dark, listening to the silence, realizing it didn’t feel quite as comfortable as it used to.
The next morning, the dorm door swung open, and Enid’s cheerful voice rang out before she even stepped inside. “Guess who’s back!”
Wednesday was sitting at her desk, typing a new story that was suspiciously full of very sharp knives. She didn’t look up. “You have returned,” she stated flatly.
Enid grinned and dropped her bag by the bed. “And you know what that means? I get to steal your snacks, hog your blanket, and oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I have to go back to my parents’ place tomorrow. I left some stuff in my room, and, well… you know how they are.”
Wednesday’s pen paused mid-sentence. She didn’t even need to look at her to know her expression had hardened. “You cannot go,” she said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of finality.
Enid raised her eyebrows, tilting her head teasingly. “Excuse me? I have responsibilities, Weds. My parents aren’t going to pack themselves.”
Wednesday closed her typewriter with a sharp click. “Your responsibilities can wait. You are not leaving this dorm.”
Enid laughed softly, moving closer. “Oh, really? You sound… serious. Are you trying to scare me? Or are you just… missing me?”
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “I am not ‘missing.’ That is an irrelevant human emotion. I am merely… ensuring the safety of my domain.”
Enid grinned, walking slowly around her desk. “Right, right… your domain. So that’s why I can’t go? Because you’d miss me that much?”
Wednesday’s lips twitched faintly, though she denied it immediately with a sharp blink. “I do not miss you. Your absence is inconsequential.”
“Uh-huh,” Enid said with mock seriousness. “Sure. Totally inconsequential. I see how it is. You’re going to sit here all day in the dark, sulking because I’m leaving for twenty-four hours.”
Wednesday leaned back, arms crossed. “If you choose to go, it is not your absence I will tolerate. It is the exposure to your parents’ incompetence in comparison to my careful supervision.”
Enid giggled, sitting on the bed and swinging her legs. “Careful supervision, huh? Is that what you call it?”
“Yes,” Wednesday said, tone flat but sharp. “You are not permitted to abandon me, Enid. You belong here. With me.”
Enid tilted her head and smiled softly, her teasing dimming into something warmer. She scooted closer to Wednesday, brushing against her shoulder. “You know,” she murmured, “I think I like it when you act possessive. You’re… so serious about me. It’s kind of adorable.”
Wednesday’s dark eyes flicked to hers, expression unreadable. “Adorable is not a term I would ever accept. But… your interpretation is tolerable.”
Enid laughed again, leaning against her. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll stay tonight. But you can’t make me skip my parents forever, Weds.”
“Try me,” Wednesday said softly, though there was an almost imperceptible smirk at the corner of her lips.
Enid snorted. “You know, sometimes I think you’d literally lock me in the dorm if you could.”
“I have considered it,” Wednesday admitted calmly. “It is practical.”
Enid leaned her head against Wednesday’s shoulder, laughing softly. “Practical. That’s the word for it. Yep. I’m definitely staying tonight. And you can’t stop me from stealing your blanket and your snacks, even if you try.”
Wednesday said nothing, but her hand slid over to lightly brush Enid’s fingers, holding them just enough to communicate that, in her own precise, dark way, she wasn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon.
Enid grinned. “Good. Because I like being here. With you.”
Wednesday’s eyes softened fractionally. “And I, reluctantly, tolerate your presence. Extensively.”
Enid snickered, knowing exactly what that meant. They settled into the familiar rhythm of their dorm, the world outside fading, leaving just the two of them, teasing, warm, perfectly matched.
---
The first pale light of dawn was just beginning to filter through the heavy velvet curtains when Enid’s eyes fluttered open. She was still curled against Wednesday, whose arm was draped over her with the possessive weight of a tombstone. For a moment, Enid just lay there, breathing in the familiar scent of nightshade and old paper. Then, her mission returned.
Operation: Get Home Without Incident Because I Stupidly Let Me Favorite Colorful Pullovers
With the slowness of a seasoned bomb disposal expert, Enid began to inch her way out from under Wednesday’s arm. She moved in millimeters, pausing after every shift to listen for any change in Wednesday’s steady, shallow breathing. The arm was a dead weight, a deliberate obstacle. Finally, with a final, silent wiggle, she was free. She held her breath, poised on the edge of the bed. Wednesday didn’t stir. Victory.
Enid slid off the mattress, her bare feet making no sound on the cold floor. She crept toward her bag, her movements fluid and practiced. She was just reaching for the strap when a soft, metallic click echoed from the corner of the room.
Enid froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She turned her head slowly.
Wednesday was sitting upright in bed, perfectly still, like a gargoyle come to life. In her lap, resting on her folded legs, was a crossbow. It was aimed with unerring precision at the duffel bag in Enid’s hand.
“Leaving so soon?” Wednesday’s voice was a low, dangerous monotone, devoid of any sleepiness. “I believe we had a discussion about this.”
Enid’s mouth went dry. “W- Wednesday? What the hell? Were you awake this whole time?”
“I am a light sleeper,” Wednesday stated, as if that explained everything. “And your breathing pattern became erratic approximately three minutes ago, indicating pre-departure anxiety. It was a logical deduction.” She gestured with the crossbow, not lowering it in the slightest. “Step away from the bag.”
Enid let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of genuine fear and utter disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You’re going to shoot me for going to see my parents?”
“Of course not,” Wednesday said, a flicker of something like offense in her dark eyes. “The bolts are tipped with a powerful tranquilizer. You would simply wake up in approximately twelve hours, by which time your window of opportunity would have closed. It is a non-lethal deterrent.”
“A non-lethal deterrent!” Enid threw her hands up in exasperation. “You call that a deterrent? I call that being a crazy, possessive,...”
“Protective,” Wednesday corrected calmly. “I am ensuring your continued presence in a secure environment. Your parents’ domicile is a variable I cannot control. Their emotional volatility is a proven threat to your well-being. Here, the only threat you face is me, and I am entirely predictable.”
Enid stared at her, at the crossbow, at the deadly serious expression on her face. The sheer, unadulterated Wednesday-ness of it all was so absurd it broke through her fear. A grin tugged at her lips. “You’re insane. You know that, right? Completely, certifiably insane.”
“Sanity is a social construct,” Wednesday replied without missing a beat. “Now, return to bed. The negotiations are over.”
Enid sighed, the fight draining out of her. She dropped the bag and held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! Truce! You win.” She walked back to the bed, her steps slow and deliberate. “But you owe me. Big time. And I’m stealing your favorite fuzzy blanket as compensation.”
Wednesday watched her approach, the crossbow still trained on her. Only when Enid was safely back under the covers did she finally lower the weapon, placing it on the nightstand with a soft, final thud.
“Acceptable,” she said, lying back down beside her. She didn’t pull the covers over them, but her presence was a wall, an unbreachable fortress. “Your parents can wait. My domain is secure.”
Enid snuggled against her, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Your domain,” she murmured into Wednesday’s shoulder. “You’re lucky I think you’re adorable when you’re being a psychopath.”
Wednesday’s arm, once again, settled over her. “I prefer the term ‘efficiently devoted.’”
“Yeah, well,” Enid whispered, closing her eyes. “You’re my favorite efficiently devoted psychopath.”
Wednesday didn’t reply, but the faint, almost imperceptible tightening of her arm around her was all the answer Enid needed.