Chapter Text
She had finally done it.
The cool air burned in her lungs. Enid could taste the ocean, the forest, she could taste freedom.
She had been fantasizing about this moment since she was ten years old. This freedom, this ability to make choices for herself, this home that she had saved up for so long to be able to afford. The location and the view and the job that she was so excited to finally start.
Enid sat the last box down on the kitchen counter, before doing a slow twirl, her house. It was old and needed some fixing up, but god was it beautiful. The bones were solid, each room had something beautiful about it. Like the vintage wallpaper in the living room, or the arched doorways, or the big island in the middle of the kitchen.
The house had huge windows, light shining in at all hours. The exterior of it was a perfect baby blue.
She couldn’t wait to furnish it, to make it hers. To paint her bedroom bright yellow for sunny mornings, or to retile the kitchen backsplash. She had a vision in her head (and on five separate pinterest boards) of all of the amazing things that her home would be.
And for the first time, in Enid’s entire life, she had this unshakable feeling that everything would be okay. She would be okay.
The back door was propped open, letting in the cool breeze, Enid shivered but she couldn’t stand to close the door just yet. The fresh air was like a drug, like a beautiful reminder that she had finally made it.
She had survived.
She would continue to survive, she would thrive in spite of everything. She would be happy and content.
She sat down on the cold kitchen floor, she laid back and sprawled out like a starfish. She should clean, she should have swept and mopped before even considering laying here like this, but instead she stared up at the ceiling. Breathing deep and savoring the moment.
Enid was free.
She began giggling; full of giddy, full of relief, and elation. She lifted her arms in the air, pumping her fist in celebration.
She couldn’t wait to start her life anew.
She let herself just sit and feel it.
And then she got to work.
She threw her headphones on, blaring BLACKPINK and strutting back out to her car. She grabbed the broom and mop, and carried them inside. She found the box in the kitchen labeled ‘cleaning stuff’ and ripped it open to find a bucket full of cleaning supplies such as bleach, fabuloso, window spray, and cleaning spray.
She started with the dusty counters. She would eventually use cleaning spray but for now she used bleach diluted with hot water, she dipped a rag into the bucket and rung it out, before scrubbing at the counters and island. The tops, the sides, and all of the drawers. She cleaned the inside and outsides of the cabinets, she wiped down the bar stools even though she had just bought them.
She moved into the living room, wiping down the entertainment center, coffee table, and side tables.
She was sweating now, despite the breeze, so she tied her hair up into a bun.
She started on the bathroom, pulling out all of the drawers and wiping down the cabinets just as she had done in the kitchen. She scrubbed the hell out of the bathtub and shower, and then ran hot water through it to get all of the bleach out.
When she had sanitized everything she swept, and after she swept she dumped her bucket and watched the murky water run down the sink. It was satisfying to watch, knowing that her home was fresher for all of her hard work. She rinsed the bucket out a couple of times before filling it up again, and then adding a couple caps full of fabuloso (probably more than she needed, but hey, it made her feel better).
She mopped the floors and scrubbed the baseboards, she mopped a second time after the first had dried. The once dusty house was smelling like citrus, she leaned into it. Digging out the wax warmer that Yoko and Divina had given her as a house warming present and putting an orange scented wax cube in it. She watched it melt as she began to put things away.
Bowls and cups in the cabinets, mugs hanging on little hooks. Pots hanging on a metal rack on the wall, pans in one of the cabinets under the island. Utensils in drawers, her coffee machine on the counter, and the little reusable pods in the drawer underneath.
In the living room she unpacked all of her throw blankets, and she started hanging pictures and art on the walls. It was eclectic, it was maximalist, and it was so her.
She walked upstairs and made her bed. She put all of her books in the built-in bookcase in the office, and after she finished she realized that she wanted to paint the bookcases, maybe a light pink shade. All of the books she owned didn’t even take up a quarter of the space and she grinned at the excuse to splurge on more cheesy lesbian rom-coms. Take that Bianca!
She giggled. She couldn’t wait to host her friends.
To have dinner parties and movie nights, to cook dinner in her new kitchen. To have paint and sip dates, and galentine’s day brunch. She couldn’t wait to fill the guest room with actual guests.
She kept going. She spent hours upon hours cleaning and unpacking. She watched the sun set from the huge windows in the living room, the entire room getting painted in the golden orange and pink glow. She wondered if she could find a carpet that mimicked the color on her floors.
Once the sun was gone she finally shut the back door, as it was too cold now even for her.
Enid doordashed take out from some Mexican place fifteen minutes away, and she ate in her living room. Sitting on the couch in her pink tanktop and Bluey pajama pants. A blanket over her legs, Bridgerton playing on the TV, and candles lit.
Her first night in her own home. Content, exhausted, and so so happy.
———-
Wednesday Addams was not one to easily admit defeat.
She was not one to admit failure or weakness.
Which is why she stared down at her typewriter for so long. It took her nearly two hours before admitting to herself that she was stumped, and then another twenty minutes before she gave up.
She stood so abruptly that her chair clattered behind her, screeching on hardwood floors. She huffed and turned on her heel, leaving her office altogether.
It had been like this for weeks. She would try to write, pump out a couple of sentences, get stuck, and eventually quit in frustration.
Her publisher expected a manuscript in two short months, and all Wednesday had was a quarter of a story that she didn’t care for.
She went to find her phone, hoping that she had a dead body waiting for her.
She needed to work, she needed to do something with her hands, with her brain. She needed to do something that was productive, other than sitting and staring at a typewriter and her own useless fingers.
She had many new messages, from her brothers, from Thing, and from Agnes; but none of them were what she wanted.
She wanted to slice somebody open, to remove and analyze organs. She wanted to hold a bone saw firmly in her hands and feel its vibrations, she wanted to inhale the scent of blood and embalming fluid.
It was her own fault for choosing such a small and rural town to work out of, she knew that she wouldn’t keep very busy with her day job, and she had chosen that for a reason, she wanted more time to work on her books.
How that had bitten her in the ass, now she wasn’t able to do either of her jobs.
She could go find her brothers, they were surely at the Honey Bee, or she could go annoy (or help) Agnes who was probably in the midst of practicing to argue her thesis. She could call her parents, check up on them, talk to Pubert or listen to him ramble about the new school play he was doing.
She was a creature of habit though, a recluse, a little spider who was most comfortable in her own web.
She made herself a quad over ice and settled down with a book out in the garden.
The weather was beautiful, it was one of the many reasons she had decided to move out here. Dreary and damp, foggy and dark. She made herself comfortable, curled up in the porch swing which she had hung from two old and thick trees.
Her current read was a little too current for her taste, having only just come out seven years ago, but she had overheard great things about it from some editors that her publisher worked with. There was apparently a gruesome and shocking plot twist.
She was a few chapters into the story when the sound of footsteps grabbed her attention. She wasn’t unused to the sound, her home wasn’t as secluded as she would have liked, there were a handful of houses on the road and even more neighbors. There was no reason why the sound should have caught her attention, but she found herself looking up from the pages in front of her.
Down the sidewalk was a woman jogging, at first sight Wednesday’s breath halted in her lungs.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, even with sweat dripping down her forehead and dampening her t-shirt. She had light blonde hair with pink, purple, and blue streaks all throughout it, and it was tied up in a bun at the back of her head.
Wednesday couldn’t fully see her face from this distance, but Wednesday knew that the woman had beautiful blue eyes, bright enough to put the ocean to shame.
Wednesday thought she was dreaming, because that was the only place she had ever seen this woman before.
Those blue eyes, that blonde hair, burned into her brain. She would never forget it.
Wednesday had been plagued with dreams of the girl for years and years.
Countless nights, had Wednesday woken up with that girl's face on her mind, a name on the tip of her tongue, a name that she could never remember once daylight came.
The woman ran past the garden like it was so easy, as if the sight of her hadn’t left Wednesday spiraling and questioning reality.
She pinched herself, an inane gesture, she couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t passed out while sitting out in the garden, just to dream of the mystery woman again.
It stung pleasantly, but the woman’s form was still there, rushing towards the woods that surrounded Wednesday’s property.
She hurried back into her home, leaving her book rocking in the swing. She dug her crystal ball out of its case, and called her mother before even sitting it in its stand.
“My darling” Morticia grinned “How wonderful to hear from you, how is the book coming along?”
“Mother, is it possible for my dreams and visions to become intertwined?” she asked, straight to the point.
“It is rare, but nothing is impossible. Have you been dreaming of things that have come to pass?”
“In a way” Wednesday said “It is not the events of the dreams that have come true, but a person who I once thought was a figment of my imagination, who I just saw jogging down the road”
“Oh, Wednesday” Morticia smiled, sweet and knowing in a way that made Wednesday’s stomach churn. She had been trying, really, to repair her strenuous relationship with her mother. They had been learning together, growing together, learning how to understand and listen to each other. Still, that knowing look made Wednesday feel vulnerable. “When did the dreams start?”
“I was sixteen” Wednesday admitted, feeling as though it was obvious now, the dreams had started around the same time she started to have visions. Morticia made a face like she knew it too.
“When we have dreams of a person, rather than visions, it typically means that the person will become very special to you, in a way that no other person ever has been. When I was sixteen I dreamt of your father. When I saw him for the first time outside of a dream I knew that he was going to mean everything to me. I dreamt of you, for weeks before I found out I was pregnant, and it was the same with your brothers. Our dreams give us the people who will change our lives, who will change who we are”
Wednesday sat with that. She had nothing to say, she didn’t know what to say. Was she destined to love this woman?
She didn’t have to ask her mother. She already knew.
She knew it the second she had looked up from her book to see colorful hair. This pull in her chest, this feeling that nothing would ever be the same.
It was disgusting, the way her heart was beating in her chest, like it had somewhere to be and was just waiting impatiently for her to start moving.
She could move.
“Thank you for your insight mother, I have something I must do” she said before hanging up the crystal ball, she didn’t even put it back into its case before she was slipping on her shoes.
The girl had jogged into the forest no more than fifteen minutes ago, Wednesday hoped that she would take the same route home.
She stood outside in the garden, this time waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
It was an hour before Wednesday considered that she might have to switch her methods.
And so she took off walking. Scanning the houses and cars as she passed. She didn’t know what she was looking for exactly, but she hoped she would know it when she saw it.
House after house, she traveled down her entire street before turning onto the next one, and the next.
She was on the third street when she pulled out her phone.
“Agnes” she asked “Are you free to do me a favor?”
“I could use a break, what’s up” the girl replied.
“I need a list of houses within running distance of my own, that have recently been bought or rented”
“Okayyy” Agnes said. “Any particular reason?”
“Not that I would like to share at this time, no”
“Fair, okay. Give me like ten minutes” she said before hanging up the device.
It only took seven, enough time for Wednesday to walk back home and get into her black SUV.
She drove up and down the roads on the list, peering in through windows and observing the lives of others.
104 Maple Street, bought a month ago.
A young family, a heterosexual couple with two small children. They sat outside around a grill while the father cooked.
Unlikely.
115 Maple Street, bought last week.
An elderly couple, likely downsizing after their children moved away.
Unlikely.
304 North Oak Street, rented out two weeks ago.
A middle aged man, who seemingly lived alone, told by the lack of hygiene and cleanliness.
Impossible.
206 Elm Street, rented out three weeks ago.
A house full of women, Wednesday spent more time there, trying to catch a glimpse of pink and blue hair. She watched for a while before deciding to keep moving down the list.
A possibility.
113 Cherry street, bought five days ago.
The house was a ghastly blue color, and there were tall uncovered windows that looked into a living room. Standing in the middle of it was the woman. A beautiful girl. Tall and muscular, she stood there running a towel through that colorful hair. She must have showered after her run.
She was wearing a lilac purple t-shirt that reached her knees and pastel yellow socks that ended mid calf. She looked loathsome, Wednesday had an eerie feeling deep in her gut.
The woman looked so quaint, so comfortable and content. Settling down for the night, in her pajamas and freshly showered.
Wednesday found herself wanting to be witness to this ritual every night. She found herself wanting to sit on that horrible pink couch watching the woman dry her hair, she wanted to make the woman a cup of tea, she wanted to run her fingers through that hair and read out loud for the pastel woman to hear.
Lucifer, help her.
Wednesday climbed out of her car and made her way to the woman’s mailbox in the cover of darkness that had just recently washed over the town.
There were a couple of pieces of junk mail, something about a credit card and other things that vultures liked to send in attempts to drain people of their money. And there was a little package from someone called Etsy.
The main thing though, that Wednesday took notice of, was that each piece of mail had the same name on them.
Enid Sinclair.
Enid.
Enid.
“Enid” she said out loud to herself, just to hear it, just to feel it on her lips.
It was delectable.
She placed the mail back into its rightful home, and went back to her car to watch for a while longer.
Enid was curled up on the couch now, pink blanked wrapped around her body as she watched something entirely too colorful on the TV.
Wednesday watched as Enid fell asleep like that, she would surely wake up the next morning with a knot in her neck. She fought the urge to go in, to carry Enid up to bed and tuck her in.
Lucifer, she had to go. She had to go now, before she did something she would later regret.
Enid’s home was a three minute drive to Wednesday’s own, she counted as she drove.
As she pulled onto her road she noticed something was amiss.
The first cause for alarm was the light she saw coming from the windows of her home. She always turned them off before leaving, she rarely ever turned those particular lights on in fact, preferring the warm glow of lamps than the harsh overhead lights.
The second was the unlocked door. Wednesday Addams would never leave her doors or windows unlocked. She double checked every time she left.
The third sign was the smell, heat, something spicy and warm, her house smelled wonderful.
She stepped through the hallway, finding her brother at the stovetop frying something in a pan.
“Hey” he said “Where’ve you been?”
“Is it any of your business?” she asked.
“Not really- I guess our sibling time isn’t technically scheduled, but you’re usually always here waiting for me”
Shit. She had forgotten it was Thursday.
They did this every other Thursday night, Eugene had his DND group with his friends, and Pugsley made himself at home in Wednesday’s kitchen. They took turns cooking, and they would just sit and talk, or watch a movie, or sit in silence and work side by side. It hadn’t happened on purpose, but it became something she looked forward to each week.
Not that she would ever admit that to her brother, he didn’t need that kind of inflation to his ego.
“I have news” he said, scooping something creamy and orange out onto a bed of rice. “Technically we’re waiting to tell everyone next weekend when Gene’s parents visit, but I am so excited that I can’t keep it to myself”
She could see it in his eyes too, the excitement. The glee, he was so happy that there were creases on his face from the toothy smile and a subtle wetness in his eyes.
“We got approved! We have court on the eighteenth, a bunch of papers to sign, but then it is all real. It’s legal, we’re gonna be dads”
“You’re already her dads” Wednesday said, but she was so proud for her brothers, “Congratulations, brother. You and Eugene are excellent parents, Zelina is lucky to have you both”
“Thanks sis” he said, subtly wiping tears from his face.
“I am the first to know?” she asked.
“Yeah, we haven’t told anyone else yet. We found out last night and celebrated and kept it to ourselves for a while, just for us”
“Mother and Father are going to be overjoyed” she told him as he sat the dishes on the island. Wednesday washed her hands before joining him at a barstool.
“How long do you think it will take them to get here?”
“I fear that they might move here” she replied, taking a bite of the food and humming. It was good, butter chicken almost as good as their Grandmama made it.
“Yeah, like they need any more convincing” he laughed. “I don’t know why they haven’t already”
“Mother is still attempting to give me space, to respect my boundaries”
“Things are okay now, right? When you moved here you were an angsty eighteen year old and mom was being overbearing, but we’ve all worked on stuff since. You didn’t mind when Agnes followed you out here, and then Gene and I”
“It will be okay” she confirmed. They would be okay.
“Are you sure?” he asked, already standing up to get himself more curry.
“I do not say things that I do not mean” she said, he looked at her with a quirked eyebrow “Anymore”
“Good. Lucifer knows we’re going to need all the help we can get. We’re ready, we are so ready, but also incredibly nervous”
“You have a community, and your daughter will have many people ready to smother her with their love” Wednesday said.
Pugsley was crying again, “Our daughter” he said with tears running down his face. If Wednesday scooted closer to him it was nobody's business, he leaned into her, something reminiscent of a hug.