Chapter Text
Since it had been two years since Enid arrived at Nevermore, a lot of things had become routine.
Still, there were a few things she couldn't quite get used to: asking for permission every time she wanted to go to Jericho, spending weekends confined to campus, and the ancient bench in the quad that somehow always managed to snag her clothes.
There were also things she simply couldn't understand. Where did all her missing socks go when she never even left the laundry room before everything was dry? How did her roommate manage to appear out of nowhere without anyone ever seeing her arrive? And why did Mrs. Wood insist on giving her a D on every Intro to Potions oral exam?
And, of course, there were the mysteries she had no interest in solving. What exactly went into the cafeteria muffins. Why there was always a new creaky floorboard in their dorm, but never the same one. And, most importantly, what on earth caused the smell that settled over the Lupin cages the morning after a full moon.
Some questions simply weren’t worth answering.
But there was one thing, or rather, one person, that remained a mystery to almost everyone but Enid: Wednesday Addams.
The Addams name was usually met with shivers from normies and suspicion from outcasts. Whether it was because they seemed strange even by Nevermore standards, or because of the way they carried themselves, people always had an opinion about them.
They had been called The Problem, weirdos, corrupt, narcissistic, and murderous.
But for Enid, living with the Addamses felt like the complete opposite. Morticia and Gomez had the kind of relationship she’d always fantasized about—romantic, dramatic, full of affection. They were also deeply caring parents. Pugsley, for his part, was sweet to his sister and always happy to help Enid when needed.
As for Wednesday…
Wednesday was the smartest person Enid knew. She didn’t just collect random history facts like most of the Furs who tried to learn them just to impress girls. The raven spoke four languages fluently, had read more books in a year than Enid had in her entire life, and consistently got top marks in every subject.
And, well… she was beautiful, charming, and incredibly attentive. Enid was, without a doubt, completely in love with her.
She had realized it long before she sacrificed herself to save Wednesday from Isaac Night. And the three months she spent stuck in her werewolf form, right over the holidays, and without access to a proper manicure, only made it even clearer.
Her heightened senses made her notice Addams’ presence everywhere. The brunette’s scent remained imprinted in her memories, in the hallways they’d shared, and even in thoughts that popped up when she least expected it. But it wasn’t just that.
After facing the possibility of never returning to human form, Enid started to value every moment she spent by her side. She sought her company more often, lingered a little longer, and, without realizing it, began to include Wednesday in almost everything.
That was exactly how she noticed something curious.
It didn’t matter how many times Wednesday had saved Nevermore. How many monsters she had faced, mysteries she had solved, or lives she had helped save. People still talked about her.
Still suspected her. Still tried to figure her out.
And Enid, well… she liked those moments.
Sometimes because she’d end up watching Wednesday take down guys twice her size without even messing up her bangs.
But mainly because every new conversation yielded some brand-new information. A weird habit. An old story. A detail about her family. A quirk that no one else seemed to notice.
Not because Wednesday was a freak or an enigma to be solved, but because every new discovery only confirmed what Enid had suspected for a long time:
Wednesday Addams was, by far, the most interesting person she had ever met.
-
1. The Addamses are killers.
Enid would be lying if she said she didn’t do this every time. She jumps out of bed every Thursday, and it’s the only day she doesn’t grab her phone to check notifications as soon as she wakes up. Why?
Well, she can’t say exactly how it started.
It probably began during some argument with Wednesday. She just knows they started this weird routine without questioning it much. It just keeps happening, and Enid couldn’t be happier about it.
She goes to Jericho every Sunday to buy a book for Wednesday. At least, that’s what she tells herself. The official excuse is that she’s introducing modern literature to the brunette, expanding her reading beyond the dark classics that seem written just for her.
But if she were completely honest, she’d admit the books weren’t just bought for Wednesday to read.
She bought them already expecting Wednesday to criticize them.
This somehow became a tradition between them.
The book is delivered on Sunday; on Monday, Wednesday starts reading. And without fail, every Thursday morning, Enid finds a sheet of paper carefully left on her desk. On it, there are always at least three paragraphs full of observations, analyses, and comments ranging from brilliant to cruelly precise and very, very funny.
Enid started counting the days until the next review because, somehow, Wednesday Addams managed to turn every romance, short story, or contemporary bestseller into something infinitely more interesting through them.
The funniest part is that most of them were negative, and it’s the negative ones that make Enid laugh, because Wednesday has a unique sense of humor, and people would be surprised by how funny she can be.
They’ve had this habit for about four months now, and if Enid is finally running out of allowance money, she doesn’t really care. Because when it does, she can always take on a few odd jobs in Jericho, as long as this habit never stops.
If she’s not going to get a love letter from Wednesday Addams, like she’d want, let it at least be letters of pure hate about books… and for her.
-
Ms. Whitmore was one of Enid’s favorite teachers. She taught Outcast Biology, one of the coolest subjects at school. She managed to be both captivating and informative, commanding a classroom of thirty students with impressive ease, even though she was just a small, white-haired woman standing at 4'11". Everyone always paid attention, barely daring to blink.
But there was one thing Enid loved even more about her: she let the students relax.
She’d give her lecture, assign a few exercises to be turned in the next class, and then leave the room, letting the students just… chill.
Today was one of those days.
It was almost lunchtime, but Enid’s stomach had been growling since first period. At least she still had ten minutes to pretend there weren’t four more periods waiting for her the rest of the day.
In these moments, Yoko was her main distraction.
“I’m just saying that being a fan of an actress is just your gay side trying to manifest,” Yoko declared.
“I can be a fan of someone without necessarily exercising my gay side,” Bianca countered.
“But you only become a fan of someone because: one, you’re in love with her. Or two, you want to be her. And that’s gay.”
Yoko looked extremely satisfied with her own logic. Enid raised a finger, ready to contribute to the discussion.
“Actually, I-”
“You don’t even have the right to participate in this convo,” Yoko interrupted immediately.
“Your entire history is made up of the same Sabrina Carpenter clips repeated every single day.”
“She has amazing clothes.”
“You would never wear half of those outfits.”
“I can appreciate her clothes. And appreciate her wearing the clothes.”
Yoko turned to Bianca with a triumphant smile and arched an eyebrow.
“Gay.”
“Sometimes I really don’t know what goes on inside your head,” Bianca commented. “What do Addams and Sabrina Carpenter have in common?”
Enid opened her mouth to answer.
When the surname Addams came up in the conversation, her ears seemed to instantly tune into its frequency.
Suddenly, she was paying attention to something else.
In this class, Wednesday sat two rows ahead, and even with Ms. Whitmore’s great lecture, the wolf girl found herself staring at the back of her crush’s head for part of the class.
Today, she was writing quickly in her notebook, the one she’d been carrying everywhere lately, with its thick leather cover. Sometimes she wrote so much in it that it felt like everything was already engraved in her mind, and she only used the paper as backup.
Enid admired that.
Today, they had talked very little before the school day started. All the blonde had from her was the short essay on the most recent book Enid had bought. And just by reading it, she already missed her, because that’s how it’s been. When you want more, what you already have doesn’t seem like enough.
She had laughed a lot at the review Wednesday had written that morning.
The book this time was Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich. Enid hadn’t bought it just because the word death was on the cover, though she admitted that might have been enough to catch her roommate’s attention. She bought it because it was one of the most touching books she had ever read.
The idea that people could view someone’s death as an inconvenience to themselves rather than a tragedy for the one leaving was so melancholy it still popped into her thoughts every now and then.
Wednesday, naturally, had drawn different conclusions.
“Tolstoy presents a devastating critique of the superficiality of human relations. Ivan Ilyich spends most of his life surrounded by people who claim to care about him, only to discover in his final months that they would prefer he die more conveniently.”
Enid agreed.
It was the next paragraph that made her laugh.
“However, most readers will likely interpret Ivan Ilyich’s death as the central tragedy of the narrative. I disagree. Death is brief, inevitable, and, according to all available reports, only happens once. The true tragedy is the number of visitors who enter the dying man’s room to discuss trivialities. If I were in his place, the death toll by the end of the novel would increase considerably.”
She had to put the review aside to catch her breath.
And Wednesday wasn’t done yet.
“Overall, a solid work. Tolstoy demonstrates that the prospect of death leads human beings to question the meaning of their own existence. Unfortunately, Ivan chooses to perform this reflection only after losing the ability to get out of bed. Planning remains an underrated skill.”
That was exactly why Enid loved reading Wednesday’s notes.
She could turn one of literature’s deepest reflections on human mortality into a formal complaint about funeral logistics and inadequate crisis management.
And god, she was actually really funny.
People would probably never call Wednesday Addams that.
Enid considered getting up and approaching the raven to start talking about the review. Or about what piece she was going to play on the cello today, because it was Thursday, and she always looked forward to hearing her on Thursdays.
In fact, she didn’t even need a reason. She just wanted to be near Wednesday.
Watching the seer during classes had become a hard habit to break, and the pieces always said a lot about how Wednesday was feeling, and it was good to have that to feel closer to her. It even calmed her down.
The room was packed, the aisles between the desks seemed smaller than ever, and she definitely wasn’t going to cross the entire room just because she couldn’t wait until lunch to sit next to her roommate.
As she looked, she noticed the group occupying the desks near Wednesday, mostly gorgons. And they were being weird. Weirder than usual.
The guys kept casting discreet glances in Addams’ direction before leaning toward each other to whisper.
Maybe they were just acting like they always did.
The blonde didn’t know if it was because they were always stoned or if something was going on there, but Enid didn’t like it, mainly because she was almost sure the whispers involved Wednesday.
She leaned forward in her chair, trying to catch the conversation.
Ryan was speaking in a low voice with Connor and another tall guy she vaguely recognized as the only DaVinci in their group. She could never remember his name, but the three of them seemed inseparable.
“You okay, man?”
“I’m serious. This girl is creepy as hell.”
“She’s creepy every day. Relax.”
“No, man. She’s been taking notes since last week.”
Instinctively, Enid’s gaze went to Wednesday.
The brunette remained sitting exactly as she always did.
Impeccable posture. Unreadable expression. Pen moving over the paper. Taking notes.
As if she were completely oblivious to the fact that she had just become the center of a student conspiracy.
“You’re just paranoid because you bumped into her. Chill.”
“Are you scared of a five-foot girl?”
“She comes from a family of killers. And the last two principals died because of her. Who knows what she’s up to now.”
Enid felt her claws threatening to emerge.
That. It was always that.
No matter how many times the story was told. No matter how many lives Wednesday had saved. No matter that she had almost died on both occasions.
People always remembered the dead principals.
Never the girl who had stopped an entire school from dying.
Never the girl who threw herself headfirst into absurdly dangerous situations for people who, apparently, would spend the rest of their lives returning the favor by spreading rumors in the hallways.
The injustice of it left a sour feeling in her stomach.
Wednesday had literally bled for that school, and this was what she got in return.
Before Enid could decide whether she would cross the room to defend her friend or rip someone’s head off, maybe both, Wednesday lifted her eyes from her notebook.
That was all. No expression. No threat. No words.
She simply turned toward the group. The effect was immediate: the three boys practically jumped back.
Tables and chairs scraped violently against the floor as they all tried to move at the same time, producing a sharp noise that cut across the entire room.
For a moment, silence took over the space. Wednesday watched their reaction with the same clinical curiosity one would reserve for a particularly predictable lab experiment.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
“Fascinating.” Her voice was calm. Almost polite.
The sound of chairs dragging across the floor was enough to draw the attention of the entire room. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. Even the most distracted students looked up to see what was happening.
Yoko, who had been arguing with Bianca just seconds earlier, cut herself off mid-sentence. She grabbed her water bottle, crossed her arms, and settled into the posture of someone about to watch an interesting film.
Bianca did the same. Enid almost rolled her eyes. Almost.
Because, honestly, the scene was kind of funny.
There was something deeply comical about watching three nearly six-foot-tall teenagers freeze in front of a five-foot-tall girl.
Although, to be fair, she understood why.
In a physical fight, Wednesday would probably take them down before they even realized what had happened, but that wasn’t even the case. She was just sitting there, pen in hand, looking at them.
And wearing that cold, still, vaguely threatening expression that made people reconsider every life choice that had led them to that exact moment.
“If I were planning something,” Wednesday said, “you wouldn’t know.”
The silence that followed was almost painful. She set her pen down on her notebook.
“My notes are behavioral observations. You, in particular, have been an excellent case study in unfounded paranoia.”
A few laughs echoed through the room.
Ryan opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came out.
Wednesday continued:
“And regarding my family…”
She paused briefly, as if genuinely considering the data.
“If my family had a genuine habit of killing people, the disappearance rate in New Jersey would be significantly higher… in fact, so would Nevermore’s.”
Enid heard a few snickers behind her and even managed to suppress one herself.
Ryan, on the other hand, looked increasingly like he was trying to figure out whether spontaneous disappearance was an achievable skill.
Fortunately for him, the bell rang at that exact moment—or unfortunately.
The sound echoed through the room, signaling the end of the period, but Wednesday didn’t seem to hear it. Or more likely, she chose to ignore it.
She kept staring at the trio. Unmoving. Expressionless.
Enid watched the scene from close by. Next to her, Yoko and Bianca didn’t look away either, not because they believed Wednesday needed help.
If anything happened, those three boys would be the ones needing it.
But there was a morbid curiosity in the air, like everyone wanted to see what they would do next.
Apparently, the answer was: run.
As the other students stood up and moved toward the cafeteria, the trio used the flow of bodies to slip away into the crowd.
Ryan was the last to leave. Before stepping through the door, he glanced back at Wednesday, one of those looks full of barely concealed contempt, as if she were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Enid felt her stomach turn. Wednesday, on the other hand, didn’t react.
She waited until the three of them were gone, then returned calmly to her notebook, as if the entire interaction had never mattered at all.
Which, for Wednesday Addams, was probably the case.
-
Enid walked into the cafeteria, her steps heavier than necessary.
She had decided not to wait for Wednesday. The raven seemed completely absorbed in her notes, and honestly, that could take anywhere from five minutes to an hour. Meanwhile, Enid could handle the line and grab a few things she knew Wednesday liked.
Or at least, that was the excuse she was using.
The truth was, she was annoyed.
Annoyed because she was hungry.
Annoyed because those idiots had spent the last ten minutes talking about Wednesday like she was a walking threat.
And annoyed because, since leaving the classroom, she had already imagined at least seven different ways to scratch their faces off.
Maybe the boys were looking for a murderer in the wrong family.
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she got, and the worst part was that a part of her had expected Wednesday to react.
Not necessarily the way they imagined, but maybe with a knife, or a particularly memorable threat, or one of Pugsley’s questionable inventions.
Anything.
Instead, Wednesday had simply looked at them and dismantled the entire absurd theory in two or three sentences.
Because, despite what everyone seemed to believe, she simply wasn’t that kind of person.
And that was what drove Enid crazy.
People saw the Addams surname and immediately imagined an entire catalogue of crimes. But they ignored everything else.
They ignored the fact that Wednesday had risked her own life more than once to save people she barely knew.
They ignored that she spent most of her time tracking down killers, kidnappers, and all kinds of criminals just to turn them over to the police.
They ignored that, whenever she had a choice between letting someone die or helping them, she chose to help.
So why did no one seem to see that?
Why was it so easy to believe Wednesday was a potential murderer and so hard to accept that she could be a hero? Or, well… an anti-hero?
The answer was simple, and Enid already knew it: people preferred the version they had already invented of her.
And that, more than any stupid comment from those boys, was what truly bothered Enid.
Another thing people seemed incapable of understanding about the Addamses was that they didn’t try to kill each other. It was almost the opposite.
They loved each other in a way so intense and unconditional that it could, at times, be unsettling.
Of course, their displays of affection involved fencing, explosives, elaborate traps, and gifts that would probably make a federal agent have a breakdown.
But that was the point, they were demonstrations of affection. Never cruelty. Never malice.
The Addamses liked morbid things. That didn’t mean they liked seeing people suffer. At least not innocent people.
Even the serial killers Wednesday had caught were still alive.
Which, considering how much she despised them, should already count as an extraordinary act of mercy.
She didn’t kill them.
And frankly, after hearing some of the stories, Enid was sure several victims of those criminals would have considered that the kinder option.
People heard Addams and imagined monsters.
Enid heard Addams and thought of a family that would go through fire, bullets, and supernatural catastrophes to protect each other.
A family that had welcomed an excessively colorful and talkative werewolf without hesitation. A family that treated her as if she had always belonged there.
But no one paid attention to those parts, because they were less interesting than the rumors.
It was the same absurd logic that made Nevermore students view Wednesday as a constant threat.
Wednesday herself didn’t help her reputation when she carried a bottle of arsenic in her backpack. But she had also never poisoned anyone.
In fact, when Enid asked once why she carried that everywhere, Wednesday replied, perfectly serious:
“Because it is my favorite beverage.”
Then she added, after a brief pause:
“And I refuse to waste it on people who would not appreciate it.”
“Why do you look so irritated?” Wednesday said, appearing behind her.
“Oh my god, Wednesday!”
Enid almost dropped her tray.
She put a hand to her chest while trying to recover a few years of life expectancy she’d just lost. “Seriously, how do you keep doing that?”
Wednesday was standing next to her as if she had always been there.
“Doing what?”
“Appearing out of nowhere!”
“I walked here.”
“No, you didn’t walk. Your platform sneakers make an absurd amount of noise. I’d recognize that sound anywhere in Nevermore.”
Wednesday looked at her own shoes.
“Perhaps you are developing a worrying obsession.”
“Maybe you’re a ghost.”
“I am not a ghost.”
Enid narrowed her eyes.
“Is there some kind of psychic who also has the power of teleportation?”
“No.”
“Instant displacement?”
“It is the same thing. No.”
“Space folding?”
“No.”
“One that floats?”
Wednesday seemed to reflect.
“My Uncle Fester claims to be able to do so after three glasses of absinthe.”
“Wednesday.”
“The results remain inconclusive.”
Enid huffed a laugh. The irritation she’d been carrying since the classroom subsided a bit. Just a bit.
“You keep saying ‘I’m an Addams’ to justify half the things you do. You can trust me if you guys have some secret power.”
“We do.”
Enid’s eyes widened.
“I knew it!”
“It is called walking quietly.”
Enid slumped a bit. She’d been trying for this confession for months.
“That doesn’t count.”
“I disagree,” Wednesday said, walking to one of the cafeteria tables along with the wolf girl.
“So?” Wednesday asked.
“So what?”
“The reason for your irritation.”
Enid let out a sigh, but couldn’t stop the smile that threatened to appear.
Because, of course. Of course Wednesday had noticed.
The girl who insisted that emotions were inconvenient distractions had apparently memorized every one of her habits to the point of diagnosing her mood in seconds.
It was annoying. And strangely adorable.
“Those idiots were talking about you again.”
For the first time since she’d arrived at her side, Wednesday seemed to lose interest in the conversation.
“Oh.”
“Just ‘oh’?”
“Yes.”
“Wednesday, they were saying you’re probably planning to kill someone.”
“They say that every week.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I disagree.”
“How can that not bother you? I know you think it’s a compliment, but you get what I mean.” Wednesday seemed to reflect for a moment. Then she looked at Enid.
“The opinion of strangers has never seemed to me a particularly valuable resource.”
Enid knew that tone. It was the same one Wednesday used whenever she wanted to pretend something didn’t affect her. The same one she used when she didn’t want to admit vulnerability.
“I just think they should know who you really are.”
Wednesday cast a side glance. Brief. Almost imperceptible.
“And who am I, really?”
The question caught Enid off guard, because the answer surfaced immediately.
Brave.
Loyal.
Beautiful.
Selfless.
Kind.
Ridiculously observant.
Someone who faced monsters without hesitation. Someone who would go through hell to save a person and then complain about the experience for weeks.
But for some reason, saying all that out loud felt dangerous. So she just smiled.
“Less scary than they think.”
Wednesday arched an eyebrow.
“That is a disappointing description.”
“I was trying to defend you.”
“I know.” Wednesday’s gaze fell to the piece of pie Enid had placed on her plate without any prior explanation.
She analyzed the dessert for an instant, as if evaluating evidence at a crime scene.
Then she picked up her fork. “For the record, you are also significantly more scary than people imagine.”
Enid blinked.
“What?”
“You looked to be considering physical violence while standing in line.”
“I was not.”
Wednesday raised an eyebrow.
“You were.”
“I was just… irritated.” Enid pointed her fork at her. “I wasn’t going to do anything.” “I never claimed you would.”
“Then what’s your point?”
Wednesday cut a small piece of the pie.
“My point is that I am not the only person who gives the impression of being dangerously violent.”
“You walk around with a bottle of arsenic.”
“Because it is a beverage.”
“You have a knife collection.”
“Because they are artifacts.”
“You’ve already taught me three different ways to hide a body.”
“Practical knowledge is important.”
Enid opened her mouth and then closed it
“You’re avoiding the point,” Enid said, frowning.
“No. I am contextualizing.” Wednesday brought the pie to her mouth. “If anyone in that room could represent an immediate threat to those three boys, it would be you.”
Enid almost choked on her juice.
“Wednesday!”
“I am giving you a compliment.”
“That was not a normal compliment.”
“You rarely appreciate mine.”
Enid laughed.
“I can’t say you appreciate mine either. I said you looked beautiful last week and you replied that I should never repeat that again.”
And there it was, yet another reminder that Enid had stopped even trying to be subtle months ago.
In her defense, it was hard to maintain subtlety when you were in love with Wednesday Addams.
Wednesday didn’t even look embarrassed.
“Because it is a shallow compliment.”
“What?”
“’Beautiful’ is subjective. Imprecise. Lazy.”
“Lazy?!”
Enid put a hand to her chest, offended.
“It offers no useful information.”
And for the first time since the conversation had started, Enid saw the corner of Wednesday’s mouth lift.
It wasn’t a full smile. It never was.
It was only that slight curve at the corner of her lips, and the distinct glint in her dark eyes. A teasing glint. Almost malicious.
The kind of expression that appeared seconds before Wednesday said something particularly provocative.
And Enid was shamelessly in love with that smile.
Because there was something else people didn’t understand about Wednesday Addams: she loved to tease others. Not in the cruel way they imagined, but in a meticulous and calculated way, like a cat pushing objects off the table just to watch someone’s reaction.
Sometimes she was so insistent that Enid wanted to throw a pillow at her face. And then she’d end up laughing. It was impossible not to laugh.
Wednesday spent half her time pretending she didn’t understand human emotions and the other half finding extremely creative ways to annoy people on purpose.
Mainly Enid. Which, looking at it from another angle, was perhaps a privilege.
As for Enid, she knew she herself wasn’t exactly subtle.
She gave too many compliments. She looked for Wednesday in any room before even checking for her other friends. She spent all her allowance on books for her. She memorized her expressions. She kept random comments the brunette made like they were treasures.
There were probably a hundred signs pointing to the same conclusion, but Wednesday seemed completely oblivious to them.
Or maybe she simply didn’t interpret them that way. Which was fair.
After all, she spent a good part of her time treating death threats as an acceptable form of casual conversation. Romance probably wasn’t at the top of her specialties.
Enid watched Wednesday return her attention to the pie, the same pie she’d grabbed for her without even thinking, and felt something warm settling in her chest.
Because, suddenly, the boys’ comments felt far away. Small. Irrelevant.
Because they could spend the rest of their lives trying to figure out who Wednesday Addams was, but Enid had the version that appeared when no one else was looking.
And honestly? She liked that one much better.