Chapter Text
Death had always been a big part of Wednesday’s life. It seemed to follow her, ironically. From the cemetery in the Addams residence’s backyard to the literal crypt that she (almost) died in, it had been a core part of her existence from the moment she opened her eyes. Wednesday had never been upset about the death surrounding her. It has always just been there. Now, she couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. Everyone knew her as Wednesday Addams, the dead girl. The outcast of the outcasts, the Addams. The dead girl.
Everyone but Enid.
And now Enid couldn’t talk to her without yelling at her, or tearing up. That was just fantastic. The one person that was actually enjoyable company didn’t want anything to do with her. She couldn’t understand why Enid didn't just think exactly like her all the time. Of course Wednesday would want to die. Not only did she hate this world and everyone in it, existing was hard. Wednesday was an Addams. An outcast of the outcasts– really won the bingo there. Existing in a society like Jericho’s was a challenge, and some days that challenge was just not something she wanted to deal with.
So why couldn’t Enid understand that she just wanted to rest?
Because she was Enid. If Wednesday was death, Enid was life. Yin and Yang, oil and water. She couldn’t understand because Enid wasn’t her, and she never would be. How unfortunate. Everyone could do with a little bit of Wednesday-ification. This, she supposed, is why Enid had not looked at Wednesday calmly for the past week. Speaking of which–
Enid was currently brushing her hair in front of her mirror, examining her eyes. Shocking to absolutely no one, an extreme lack of sleep had not done wonders for her appearance. Wednesday hovered a distance behind her. The ability to not appear in mirrors had been one of the more interesting aspects of being a ghost.
Enid, without turning around from the mirror, sensed her anyway. “Don’t you have something else to be doing? Go to that stupid ghost realm thing or something. Just stop staring.” Her voice was both quivering and rough at once, like she was caught between sobbing or screaming.
She did neither, though. Her face stayed pale, and blank. It looked familiar.
Wednesday wouldn’t know, though, as she couldn’t see herself at the minute.
“The physical state you describe as ‘ghost realm’ does not seem to fit the concept. When I vanish it is because I was absorbed into an object–”
“Stop. Don’t talk about it. You don’t care. You want it all to go away,” Enid moved from her chair and sat down on the edge of her bed. Her hands were shaking. She looked across the room at Wednesday’s empty sleeping place, which hadn’t been touched in weeks. “It looks so…dead, whenever I look across my own bedroom."
Wednesday cast her gaze on the floor, staying quiet.
“It didn’t look dead when you were there. Because you were alive. From the moment I saw you I knew you had so much inside of you…how could you want it to be empty? How could you want my life to be empty?” Enid tossed her head toward the ceiling and choked on a growl that instinctively grew, “why is it empty without you?! Why couldn’t you have just left that space in my heart alone? You don’t get to fluctuate between being a friend and an asshole, that’s not fair to anyone.”
“You don't understand.”
“Really? Enlighten me then, Wednesday Friday Addams.”
Wednesday could count the number of times the slightest jolt of fear had run down her body because of Enid on one hand. This was one of them. Enid stood with her hands on her hips, her face fierce. She was a sweet girl, yes. But she could absolutely match Wednesday in stubbornness when she wished to.
And it was one of the reasons Wednesday lo– tolerated being around her.
“Telling you my middle name was a mistake.”
“Yeah, you seem to be really good at making those,” Enid scoffed. Wednesday stood there, silent, anticipating Enid’s next move. She had always been full of surprises. Despite her bright color palette and seemingly airheaded behavior, the girl could be quite cunning when necessary, and refused to take Wednesday’s shit. To an extent.
That fight still stuck clearly in her mind sometimes.
“Why, Wednesday?” Her roommate’s voice was barely above a scratchy whisper. “Why?”
Wednesday was not jazzed about the common trend appearing of Wednesday-opens-up-to-Enid-because-stupid-feelings. Regardless, she took a small breath, locking eyes with Enid. Blinking has also become an annoying trend around her— not only because some of the things Enid did were so full of audacity that Wednesday couldn’t help but blink, but also because looking at her for a little too long had previously made her feel woozy.
“Being an outcast is not easy,” Wednesday started, her words clear and concise. It was hard to keep a monotone around someone like Enid, someone who looked at everything (yes, even Wednesday) with so much passion that it hurt.
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Being me is not easy.” Her tone shifted to being steelier. “Not only am I an outcast, but I am an Addams. I am comfortable in my life, in my ways. It is other people that make it hard, because even though I enjoy the thrill of the apathetic attitude of the general public towards me and my family, it does have its consequences. People get hurt, and not in a fun way. Images of Pugsley being shoved around, of his locker being desecrated, of normies hurling insults at him constantly haunt my visions. It isn’t fun being an Addams in the outside world, Enid. I revel in my dress, in my behavior, in my motifs. I revel in myself. But when the cost of it is the people I care about getting punished violently for existing, it is not quite as fun.” She sniffed. “And besides, the mortal world will never be half as terrifying as the squalid horrors that await me in Dante’s Nine Circles of Hell.”
“I–” Enid faltered. For someone who tried to consider Wednesday’s feelings first and foremost, she’d glossed over this concept. “I didn’t realize that. I thought you liked being an outcast.”
“Everything has its drawbacks. That’s what makes it fun. I won’t be here for long, anyway. I’m still not changing my mind.” Wednesday was honestly curious about how she'd respond to that, and just as she expected, the blonde’s expression soured.
“Fine.” Enid got up abruptly. “Shoot me in the foot, then.” She tugged on her shoes while her roommate studied her.
“Your feet are of the perfect shooting size. A nice target.”
“Oh, is that your twisted version of a compliment?” Enid screwed up her face, yanking her coat on and slamming the door behind her. Thing gave Wednesday a disapproving tap.
“What? No, I’m not being impossible. You’re being impossible. Because you are insinuating things that are not true. Oh, look over there.” Wednesday pointed behind him and disappeared into the floor before he could make another comment about her ‘inability to express feelings when it came to Enid.’
As Wednesday wedged her spirit in-between the floorboards, she reflected on her reasoning. Yes, it made sense why she’d want to die. Perfect sense, actually. The bodies that she had to poke back into their graves with a rake on Fridays back at the Addams Manor always seemed miserable, and not in an enjoyable way. Being stuck in this pitiful world forever with no option of passing on, in her mind, was nothing but awful. At least other forms of torture, such as waterboarding, were stimulating.
Wednesday’s mind flitted back to the night she died, more specifically, the resurrection that Goody Addams performed on her. She supposed the effort was in vain, considering Wednesday ended up dying anyway. At least she died in a more violent fashion, as choking on one’s own throat in asphyxiation was certainly more interesting than being impaled by some botany teacher who’s boot color choice should have been legally considered a felony on the eyes. At least Wednesday got to kick her in the face before she was murdered. That was probably the highlight of that evening, though that was easy, as the margin was incredibly low for enjoyable events.
Was Goody’s spirit still with her? Had it passed when Wednesday did? Wednesday supposed no one would know the answer to said questions. It was surprising that her death had been more of a spectacle than Weems’, considering one was the principal of the school and another was an outcast among the outcasts, the proud title holder of Nevermore News’ voted category: Most Likely to be Disliked.
Wednesday’s mind flitted back to Enid, as it often did. What if it had been her that had died? Wednesday certainly couldn’t have lived with herself. She understood Enid’s reasoning, to a degree. Wednesday would also do everything in her power to bring her roommate back. However, Wednesday was Wednesday and Enid was Enid. Enid was the strong-willed, determined girl who also doubled as the school’s resident social butterfly. In the mornings where they walked to first period together, it was not uncommon for her to stand awkwardly off to the side while Enid greeted the thirty-four people she’d recognize in the halls. Enid was lively, Enid was beautiful, Enid was so caring it was unfathomable to her. Enid was the epitome of life, so it made no sense that she should be resting in death. Wednesday, however, was awkward, sadistic, and quick-witted– as Thing had once said, qualities of all the best serial killers. Death fit her, it was why she was so eager to return to it. Death was familiar. This weird in-between… it felt the same way she had that day that Enid tried to put the tape across their dorm floor down and Wednesday had stopped her. Shades of gray in a world that she always saw in black and white. It was scary. These new emotions were scary.
That’s why she was drawn in towards Tyler. Tyler felt familiar. He was easily read, (or so she thought) not that well-liked, and predictable. He was flat, two-dimensional. Easy to work with, easy to manipulate. And she supposed that manipulated he was, as Laurel Gates– Ms. Thornhill? She had wrapped her plant-like tendrils into his mind and snagged him in like a Venus Flytrap clamping closed on its prey. She had shaped him, Wednesday supposed. For that, it wasn’t his fault.
But everything he had done?
Aiding in Principal Weems’ death. Helping resurrect Crackstone. Killing all those innocent people, hidden under the shadow of a monster– a monster that had killed her. Almost killed Enid. That sunk in.
Tyler could’ve killed Enid.
That was unforgivable. Robbing the world of its brightest child– that would be unforgivable. Thank devil it had been her instead. No real loss, despite everyone treating it as one. Enid was clearly masked by grief, unable to see clear reasoning. Surely, Wednesday explaining why her forever death was the most logical choice would cause her to see the truth. Yes. Enid had followed her around and had basically written verbally presented persuasive essays on why Wednesday should expand her social horizons at the beginning of her stay. A little taste of her own medicine wouldn’t hurt. When Wednesday died, it would blow over, Enid would find a new roommate.
That didn’t seem right.
A tendril of disgust curled in her stomach, similar to the one that had emerged when Enid had spat out her planned location change to Yoko’s room during The Argument.
That was one of the first times Wednesday has almost cried since Nero’s untimely death. She didn’t even cry during her own untimely death. Yet, the thought of that stupid argument and the current feeling of Enid being mad at her (a feeling that was becoming horribly familiar, in fact) sucked, quite frankly. This was one negative emotion that was thoroughly unwelcome to her. Enid being upset, especially at Wednesday? It made her want to throw whoever had provoked it off of her balcony.
Unfortunately, when you’re a ghost, suicide is impossible.
Yes. The plan was formulated in Wednesday’s mind, quite formed now. She would pitch her reasons as to why dying would be optimal, and with time, the lycan would come around. Perfect. Enid would move on, Wednesday would move on in a more physical way, and everyone would be content.
This would be perfect.
__________
If she wasn’t so fundamentally against the concept of Wednesday dying, Enid would’ve killed her by now.
From bringing back creepy, dead animals to literally tricking Enid into going into the same house with the Hyde, Wednesday was clearly very comfortable with pushing the few boundaries her roommate had. She had gotten much better since their spat, and Enid had foolishly thought that Wednesday was above tricking her into doing what she wanted. Oh, how she was wrong!
Enid hadn’t changed her mind as well. She was going to bring back Wednesday, no matter what, and Fester was clearly advocating for his niece’s return. Wednesday Addams was going to return to this Earth whether she liked it or not, and Enid Sinclair, despite her many flaws, was a very stubborn girl.
Now, her days were spent ignoring the feeling that she was being watched, feeling Wednesday’s ghostly stare boring into her. She’d go to the library, studying any mention of reviving the dead she could, despite the books snapping shut or being thrown across the room. Wednesday would find her own books, stacking them up on her side of the room, knowing that Enid wouldn’t dare go over the invisible line down the center. Enid refused to touch that side of the room, because in her mind, Wednesday was already dead. Enid respected the dead.
Even if the dead refused to respect her.
Both Enid and Wednesday were too stubborn for their own good, and it would certainly be the death of them. For one of them, it quite literally had been.
So no, Enid wouldn’t help kill that girl. Enid wouldn’t help kill the girl that had been haunting her thoughts and dreams for close to two months, haunted her waking life for one.
Enid was going to bring Wednesday back to life, even if it killed her instead.
__________
The first fight
The first fight happened in the morning.
It was a day like any other. Enid woke up, swung her legs out of bed, picked out her uniform, rinse and repeat. However, both of the inhabitants of the room had done some contemplating, and both were prepared.
“Good morning, Enid.”
“Morning, Wednesday!” Enid said cheerfully. Wednesday was taken aback. This was the first time that Enid hadn’t looked at her with tears or anger in her eyes in a while.
“You’re cheerful today.”
“I’d like to think I’m cheerful every day. A day is determined by the attitude you have about it.”
Wednesday studied her. This was strange. Enid had either done a complete 180 regarding their fight, or she was up to something.
If Wednesday had taught her anything, it was the second.
“Are you excited for first period?”
“I don’t have a first period.”
“Don’t be silly. You have Nevermore History.”
“I haven’t had that class since I died.” Enid seemed to pointedly ignore that sentence.
“Hurry up, we’ll be late.” Wednesday studied her for a few more seconds, then decided to humor her.
“Alright. Let me get dressed.” She obviously hadn’t, Wednesday wasn’t aware of a method she could use to change her deathbed attire. It was the Nevermore uniform, so she supposed it worked. Wednesday pretended to change, and then turned around in the exact same outfit.
“Ta-da.”
“Lookin’ good, as always.” Enid shot her finger-guns. She hadn’t done that since her death-day. Wednesday nodded, and then walked through the wall. Enid clearly saw this, but held open the door for a second, and then closed it behind her. Huh. Wednesday squinted. She had a bad feeling about this, a feeling of dread.
The feeling sent a pleasant course through her veins. A mystery. Oh, this was going to be good.
Enid and Wednesday strolled down the halls, Enid waving hello to various classmates. While once they would have cheerfully returned it, they now shrunk back or gave her strange looks. Enid either didn’t notice, or pretended not to. “Here’s your stop,” she chirped. “Have fun. Don’t bore yourself to death.”
“I am already dead.”
“Have fun!”
“Enid, I do not have this class. I’m unregistered automatically. I think you get unregistered automatically from all your classes when you die.” Enid didn’t respond, turning and skipping away. Wednesday followed behind her. Enid made her way to her classroom, clasping her hands together and sitting in her seat. She took out paper and started working on the warm-up, while Wednesday floated beside her.
“That’s not the right answer.”
“Wednesday, you’re supposed to be in class.”
“I am in class.”
“Your class.”
“I am in my class, technically. I have no class. I am not an official student at Nevermore.”
“Go back to class, Willa.” Enid’s tone was cool and stern. Wednesday looked back at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes. You’re going to be marked absent.”
“I am permanently marked absent.” Enid rolled her eyes.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
Wednesday was getting a little fed-up with whatever game Enid was playing.
“Enid, I am dead. I have been dead for two months. I died by murder, Tyler Galpin killed me. He crushed my throat. You defended me, you held me, and you were with me when I died.” Enid’s nose twitched. She didn’t respond.
“You wolfed out during the blood moon, and you earned those scars. You earned those scars defending me.” That sentence got a rise out of her roommate. Enid swallowed, lashes fluttering. Wednesday, in spite of herself, reached out and ran her ghostly fingers across Enid’s cheek. Truly, they passed right through her face, and Wednesday felt herself wishing she could feel the rough, bumpy scar tissue. Feel something, for once.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Willa,” she mumbled.
“Don’t play stupid. You’re not stupid.”
“Go back to class.”
“You earned those scars. You fought Tyler. You earned the title of werewolf that night.”
“I didn’t earn shit.” Enid’s tone was a bit louder. Her fellow classmates were beginning to peer behind them, giving each other the look they had cultivated recently: the oh-god-she’s-at-it-again look.
“Yes you did.”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t wolf out, I haven’t ever wolfed out, and nothing happened ‘that night’.”
“Are you gaslighting yourself?”
“More like you’re gaslighting me. You certainly have an affection for it!” Wednesday felt her words strike into her heart, knowing exactly what Enid was referencing.
“Enid, denying it isn’t going to change the fact that I am buried at my house, next to Nero. You attended my funeral. I am dead.”
“Wednesday, life is one of those things that are black and white. You’re either dead, or you’re not. No in-between. Ghosts aren’t real.”
“Enid, I know black and white better than anyone. I’m in-between. I’m blurring the line between life and death.” Enid stifled a small growl.
“Will you be quiet?”
“No. You’re denying it.”
“I’m not denying anything.”
“Enid Harmonia Sinclair. Do not go down this lane.”
“I’m not going to admit it.”
“By saying you’re not admitting it, you’re indirectly admitting it.”
“Ugh!” Enid threw her hands up, practically hissing and spitting like a cat dropped in water. “You are so…impossible!”
“Miss Sinclair,” the professor drawled, “do you have something to share with the class?”
“No.” Enid stood up, walking out of the classroom quickly. Wednesday walked through the wall, following.
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this, Enid. I have made my intentions clear from the beginning.”
“No, no you haven’t!” Enid’s eyes burned with tears. “You’re manipulative! You use people to get what you want! I trusted you, Wednesday. I trusted that you wanted to come back, come back to me, and you used me. Again.” Wednesday was silent. “If I don’t think about it, if I deny it, if I pretend like it didn’t happen…” Enid scuffed the floor with her shoe. “I don’t have to remember that you died. I can pretend like it didn’t happen. I can pretend….” Her hand gently reached out, ghosting over Wednesday’s shoulder. Wednesday’s eyes followed it, and she didn’t move. “I can pretend you’re still here.” Enid’s voice was broken, quiet.
Wednesday’s chest felt like it was compressing on itself.
“Denial isn’t healthy.”
“Dying isn’t, either.”
“Death is unavoidable for everyone. Weems is dead. I am dead. Face it.”
Enid held her breath, face going red. She spluttered for a second, the tears creeping out of her eyes.
“Fine. You're dead. I'm bringing you back whether you like it or not, Willa, so get used to it.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Oh, it will be.” Enid spat out, “now go back to your class.”
Wednesday watched her leave, and that sinking feeling burned in her stomach. Usually she loved when people were mad at her.
Enid turned that feeling from black to white. From love, to hate. Even so, a small, small voice whispered in the back of her mind– it sounded a little too much like Morticia for Wednesday’s comfort.
Enid looks good when she's mad.
__________
The second fight
The second fight occurred in the library. Enid was performing her daily routine. Get lunch, ignore the whispers, go to the library and find books. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.
She walked quickly and quietly down the hall, huffing when she felt her presence beside her.
Enid walked faster.
She tugged open the library doors, descending down the steps. The old wooden stairs creaked under her weight, well-worn from hundreds of years worth of students traveling up and down. That was something Enid loved about Nevermore. Sure, she was a violent appreciator of all things colorful, but gothic architecture was objectively pretty beautiful. The school walls, the stained glass, the carved staircases…they were mesmerizing to look at. Enid especially loved the clear signs of people having been there, whether that be the fingerprint indents on the dorm room handles, or the initials carved into the crevices where two young, puppy-love filled students had hoped no one would see. Things like that produced a little spark of joy in her soul; they brought a warm smile to her face. People were so fascinating. Being the school’s resident social butterfly, Enid knew most things about most people. It's why Wednesday had intrigued her. They were more similar than they thought, you see, because both girls were faced with something they didn't understand that day in Ophelia Hall when they met. They both seeked understanding. The other was a mystery to unravel.
It's bitter to think about how someone who Enid considered to be the most important person in the world to her could just use her like that. Though, she did suppose Wednesday had applied a caution label to herself. Enid had been stupid and touched the bright-colored frog, knowing it was poisonous. Maybe that's why she felt that way around Wednesday. The girl had said the Addams were a culmination of various species from all over the globe; maybe Wednesday had a poisonous aura of sorts. Maybe that's why Enid's heart would pick up and her claws would sheathe out in nervousness. Wednesday was simply oozing negativity, and it made Enid anxious. Yes, that was it.
And here she was, busting her ass to bring the girl back to life.
Enid sat down at the table, noting the scratches left previously. She traced her claw along the indents. Generations of stressed werewolves, digging their claws into the rough wood when they didn't get a concept for a class, or when their crush didn't say hi to them in the hallway. She studied one left by herself, last time she was here and Wednesday had thrown her book across the room.
Or when their crush was being irritating.
Wait, what?
Enid frowned and squinted.
Where did that come from?
She shook her head. She'd dissect that later.
For now, it was study time.
She sat down, pulling out the three books in her bag. Necromancy for Beginners, How to Raise your Spirits , and The Best of Ghost Worlds: a History in Resurrection. She flipped open to her last tab in the first book, sticking a sticky note with annotations down when she found something interesting. She was just about to turn the page when she reached for her pencil to jot something down, and the book slammed on her hand. Hard.
“OW!” She yanked it back, “Wednesday, I know you did that!” Likewise, the ghost appeared, a strange expression on her face.
“I didn't mean to slam that on your hand.”
“Oh, but you still meant to slam it!” Enid cradled her throbbing hand, quickly turning red.
“Of course.”
“You are so—” She glared up, causing another shiver to run down Wednesday’s spine. She couldn't tell if it was a positive or negative reaction. Maybe both. “I can't stand you, Wednesday Addams!”
“You are sitting.” Wednesday didn't flinch as the book sailed right through her ghostly head.
“You are the most selfish, arrogant, close-minded person I have ever met, and that's a really long list of people.” Enid shook her hand out. “You never care about anyone but yourself.”
“I cared enough to stay.”
“Oh, please.” Enid scoffed, “you just want me to help you. You admitted it yourself.”
“Enid…” Wednesday's voice trailed off. Her voice never trailed off.
“What? What, Wednesday? What do you want?”
Wednesday was very calm when she responded.
“I want to die forever. You are trying to prevent that.”
“Because I care about you!”
“That's your fault. I never asked you to care about me.”
“Well, Wednesday, that's what friends do.” Her eyes were fiery, lit up with passion. Enid stood up out of her seat, hands curling into fists to avoid unsheathing her claws. “Friends help each other, even if one friend refuses to see common sense.”
“Aw, Enid, don't say that about yourself.” Wednesday’s tone was deadpan, but with a hint of mockery, and Enid flared up further.
“You are being a serious asshole right now!”
“Flattery won't work on me.”
Enid buried her face in her hands and screamed.
“Get out.”
Wednesday studied her, wondering if she heard that correctly.
“You want to be dead so bad?” Enid’s tone was cold, and hurt. “Then go act like it. Leave me alone. ”
“I thought you wanted me here, on this mortal plane with you.”
“Yeah, well, I care about you more than myself, sometimes, Wednesday. It's a very poor habit I've developed.”
“I agree. Self-preservation is essential.” Wednesday tried to say it with a positive tone, but it came out flat. Enid wordlessly pointed at the library door.
Wednesday took the hint, for once.
She turned and left, and as she melted through the door, she pretended like Enid’s angry sobs weren't digging needles into her heart.
__________
The third fight
The third fight happened in their room. The sun was setting, splashing warm colors of light across the room. Due to Enid’s window stickers, the effect was similar to stained glass, and kaleidoscope-like shapes were dancing across her. Gold, pink, orange and yellow were painted down across her cheek. She was sitting on the floor near her bed, reading some text from Yoko requesting a hangout. She sighed, typing a pitiful rejection and sent it, clicking off her phone. She could do homework. Or she could read the latest book she retrieved from the library. Enid chose the latter, drawing it out of her bag.
Wednesday was watching her, sitting across the room on her bed. It was no secret that she had a distaste for color. Despite herself, it looked nice on Enid. The warm tones, the pinks, the yellows….they suited her. She watched the kaleidoscope twirl its squares across her roommate's face, and she couldn't help but think she looked like a painting. The slope of her nose, the way her hair fell in front of her eyes. All of it fit together to look like some Renaissance painter— Botticelli, maybe— had switched out their nature-like muted tones for softer, warmer ones.
Wednesday could probably look at Enid all day if doing so wouldn't raise the uncomfortable urge to reach out and touch her cheek, feel her scars.
Wait.
What?
Wednesday thought for a moment.
Why did she want to touch Enid so badly? Perhaps it is the absence of touching anything as a ghost. Wednesday could still touch objects, though….
She frowned. The feeling of wanting to touch her roommate was becoming uncomfortably familiar. Maybe it was sensory deprivation, and she needed to feel the nearest thing that looked like a bunch of paint was thrown on a golden retriever.
She ignored the Morticia-voice that pointed out that Wednesday had felt this way previous to being dead.
“Are you just going to keep staring at me?” Enid’s voice was soft, tired. Her eyes were still trained on the book.
“Your scars.”
“I know. I usually conceal them. Sorry.”
“Enid, I thought you would've learned by now that you are objectively appealing to the eye, scars and all. In fact, they make you look…more appealing.”
“You cuddle with scorpions and spiders, Willa. No offense, but I'm not jumping for joy at the fact you just called me pretty.” Enid was lying through her teeth, the words had stirred heat in her cheeks.
“The scorpions and spiders didn't want to share space with you anyway.” Enid furrowed her eyebrows and looked up at the small tone of hurt she detected in the ghost’s voice. Shame prickled in her ears. She cleared her throat.
“Do you want to come sit with me?” Wednesday blinked.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. C'mere.” Enid patted the side beside her. The ghost got down and floated over, sitting down as best she could. Enid gave a small smile, and Wednesday’s heart practically ached. Ew.
“You're smiling.”
“I am. I missed you, Willa.”
“I’m right here beside you.”
“I meant…” Enid gestured vaguely. “I missed this. I missed us. Y'know?”
“I suppose.”
“Do you remember the look on Bianca’s face when we sliced through her canoe in the Poe Cup?” Wednesday’s lips quirked upwards.
“Incredibly satisfactory. She looked as though she had been stoned; I was half-sure your boyfriend had accidentally lost his ugly hat.” Enid hid a laugh.
“You are so mean to him!”
“And you find amusement in it every time.”
“Okay– well–” Enid broke down in snickers. “It's not– it's not funny.”
“I just don't understand why you hold affection for him. He is utterly mediocre in every fashion.”
“Okay, but so am I. I'm the world's most average renaissance woman.”
“No.” Wednesday wasn't looking at her, instead staring ahead and…blinking. “You're not even close to being average, Enid. You're an enigma.”
Enid’s breath caught in her throat.
She slowly moved her hand, reaching out to do…something. She went to touch Wednesday’s face, and her hand passed right through. Wednesday jolted, and Enid snapped her hand back.
“Sorry, sorry! Forgot.” The girl didn't respond. Thoughts clouded Enid’s mind, most of them filled with a familiar emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on the name of.
Longing.
She blinked, and turned to Wednesday. “Willa, if you stay, we can be like this forever.” Her voice was a whisper, but Wednesday heard every word like she had shouted them.
Ghosts didn't have a heartbeat. Somehow, it was still hammering in her ears.
“Enid, that's not fair.”
“Why not? Please.”
“I can't.”
“Why not?”
“For all the reasons I have said. I do not belong in this world. There is no place for me here. I am unwelcome in all environments, and I will be happier dead.”
“You'll be welcome here.” Enid was practically begging now. “You'll always be welcome with me, please, Wednesday. I'll do anything.”
“There is nothing to be done.” Wednesday’s voice was quiet, more strained than usual. “I've made my choice.”
“There's still time.” Tears were running quick and hot down the girl’s cheeks, catching the light of the sunset painted through the colored glass. Even while sobbing, Enid was a work of art. “We can fix this. Fester, me, Eugene, hell, even Bianca– your parents, Wednesday! Look at them! They're broken, because you're gone. I’m–” Enid broke off in a choked sob. “I'm broken because you're gone.”
“You'll be better off with me leaving completely. You can move on.”
“You don't know that!”
“You're a social butterfly, Enid. You'll have no problem finding a replacement.”
“But they won't be you.” Enid broke down completely, her words barely audible through her crying. “I'd give up all my friends if you came back. I'd do anything for you to come back. I'd trade places for you to come back.”
That caught Wednesday off-guard.
“That is not necessary.”
“But I'd do it. You don't get it, Wednesday. You don't get what you mean to me.”
“You are so much more than I am, Enid. You are a necessary addition to this world.”
“And you were an unnecessary depletion!”
“But it happened. I'm not going to change what happened. If the universe wants me dead, I'll stay dead.”
Enid scoffed sadly.
“You've never, ever let people tell you what to do, Wednesday, so I think it's pretty pathetic you're starting now.” She stood up, walking to the door.
She paused.
“Orpheus and Eurydice.”
Wednesday looked confused. Enid sniffled, wiping her nose.
“I just remembered the name.” She opened the door, walked out, looked back momentarily and shut it behind her.
Orpheus and Eurydice. Wednesday blinked, ignoring the disgustingly warm feeling in her chest.
Enid had looked back.
__________
The fourth fight
The fourth fight happened at the desk. That earlier evening, Enid had come back to the dorm and been presented with the incredibly unpleasant development that the rest of Wednesday’s things were gone.
Her mattress was stripped bare. Her closet was empty. Her drawers were cleaned out. Even the cobwebs that Wednesday had loved cultivating so much had been dusted away by whoever had cleaned.
They had missed the desk. Right in the middle of it, an imprint of where the typewriter had been was framed by dust. Enid was tempted to run her finger through it, but held herself back. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.
She picked it up. Wednesday’s snood. She ran her finger over the fabric, chest feeling tight. Enid— being a werewolf and all— had a very keen sense of smell. She could still smell bergamont, lemon, ink, books, and the general smell of death. She pretended like her face wasn't heating up at the fact that she could also smell her own perfume there.
“Your craftsmanship is admirable.” Wednesday appeared, sitting on the desk. Not a speck of dust was disturbed.
Enid’s lip trembled. “Thank you.” She held it out, and Wednesday took it, setting it in her lap. Enid turned away so Wednesday couldn't see her cry.
“What is the cause for crying now?”
“Cause I'm upset.” Enid was mumbling, hands fidgeting.
“We've had this conversation a multitude of times, Enid. I'm going to have to leave.”
“That's not why I'm upset. Yeah, that, but…I kinda thought it would be a while. At least a couple more months. They cleared out your stuff, Wednesday. It's gone. You're gone. It's finally starting to hit me that I'll have to live the rest of my life knowing you're gone.”
“You will remember me.”
“I couldn't live without you.” Her shoulders shook and she pulled her knees up to her chest, sliding down against the desk leg. “I can't lose myself again. You remember how I was. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I lost myself, and the fact that you're just willing to— to leave again? It sucks. You know I need you, and you're still abandoning me.”
“You should not care this much about me.”
“I know, but I do. I shouldn't, but I DO.” Her voice was broken, rough, scratchy. “I need you the way the sun needs the moon, the way the wolves need the forest. You made me reflect on myself, Wednesday. I'm feeling things I've never felt before, I stood up to my mom— I stood up to my mom because of you. You have had an indelible effect on me, and it's not fair that I have to live with the fact you're going to be gone.” Wednesday didn't miss the repetition of her old words. “That you'll be gone forever, and that you'll have died because of—” Enid cut herself short, scared to say more. “It's not fair.”
“Life isn't fair, Enid. But we move on, and we heal, and we live.”
“You don't get to live any more.”
“And that is my burden to bear. Not yours.”
“It is my burden.” Enid looked at her through tearful eyes. “I was there when you died, Wednesday. I held you as you died. I watched you die. You don't get to say it's not my burden to bear when it has been haunting me every sleeping and waking moment for two and a half months.”
Wednesday felt a prickling in her own eyes. She blinked a couple of times.
“You're too good for this, Enid.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes good people get themselves into tricky situations. If you want to die, then die. But don't pretend like it's going to be better for me when you know it won't. You can die, just as long as you bear the burden in your death that Nevermore will never be the same, Eugene will never be the same, and I will never be the same. You were someone, Wednesday. All of us care for you.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the tears springing up again. “And it really sucks that I'm going to live the rest of my life wishing something that didn't happen did.”
Wednesday had never wanted to throw herself off a bridge and finish the job more than she did at that moment. “Enid, I—” she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
Enid sighed, wiping her face.
“You win, Wednesday. You win.”
Wednesday was the one who left this time. She turned and disappeared through the wall to go throw rocks at Xavier, wishing that she had never dumped those stupid piranhas in the pool.
__________
The fifth fight
The last fight happened in the quad. Enid sat next to the fountain, scribbling down notes off of some book she had gotten from the library. Her eyes were lidded— the girl hadn't gotten much sleep in the past couple of weeks. In the margins, she doodled the ghost that had been on her mind so much lately. Wednesday’s expressions were always fascinating to observe, and even more so to sketch. Sure, she was no Xavier, but Enid knew her way around a pencil. She formed the curve of Wednesday’s nose, the dark irises. It started to take shape. She had always been pretty— in a striking way. Enid found her pretty in the same way one would find raindrops on a spiderweb pretty, or the electric light of thunder.
That wasn't an entirely inaccurate description of the way being around Wednesday made her feel, actually. It was akin to touching live wire, the way her nerves would light up. At first, Enid had assumed it was because she had never met anyone like Wednesday before. Deep down, she knew that wasn't the real reason.
It was okay. She'd explore that further when Wednesday was safe, back, and alive. When she had relented and told Wednesday she had won, in no means did she intend to give up on bringing her back. Enid just meant she was giving up on a specific part of Wednesday’s plan that would make it just a bit difficult to pass on permanently.
Speaking of the girl, Enid could feel her eyes boring into her soul.
“Wednesday, I know you're there.” Her tone was calm, composed. Wednesday paused. That was…different.
“Enid.” The ghost appeared behind her, hovering. “You captured my likeness quite well. I look deathly. It's perfect.”
“Hard to depict the dead as non-deathly, huh?”
“So you're admitting it?”
“Yeah, I'm admitting it.” Enid dug her pencil into the paper. “Why wouldn't I?”
“You were gaslighting me two weeks ago.”
“New year, new me.” Wednesday paused, not knowing if Enid was joking or if she was actually under the impression that it was January. She decided on the former.
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Because.” Enid stood up, snapping her book shut. “I've enforced preventative measures.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You—” Enid ‘poked’ Wednesday in the chest, finger passing right through. Wednesday didn't move. “You need me to perform whatever spell or cantrip to kill you forever, right? ‘Cause I'm the only one who can see you.”
“Yes.” She eyed her.
“Well, I won't do it.”
The girl froze. “What?”
“You heard me, Willa. I won't do it.”
Wednesday hadn't anticipated this. Her thoughts were scrambled, and she rushed to put them back together.
“You won't do it.”
“Nope.” Enid popped her lips at the ‘p’. “You need a person to cast whatever thing, the person that can see you. I refuse to cast it. I'm not doing it. I'm going to find the other spell, and bring you back to life. That's the way it's going to happen, like it or not.” Enid crossed her arms. Wednesday was, to put it nicely, flabbergasted. Her eyes widened and searched her roommate’s face for anything besides smugness and stubbornness. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.
Confidence on Enid was far from a bad look. However, Wednesday was getting irritated at the werewolf’s refusal to accept her decision.
“Enid, I'm not having this conversation again. I'm dying. End of story.”
“No. No you're not, because I won't do it!”
“Then I'll find someone who will. Fester, maybe—”
“Oh, Wednesday.” Enid tilted her head, a sly grin tilted on her face. Wednesday's stomach flipped. “You really think I didn't consider that? I've already contacted goth Mr. Clean. He's fully on board with my side, and will tell me if you try to persuade him. I'm three steps ahead of you, roomie.”
“You are aggravating.”
“Now you'll understand how I've felt being lurked on by a ghost for two months.”
“You truly are that annoyed with my presence?”
“No.” Enid's voice softened. “No, Willa, the whole reason I'm bringing you back is because I like spending time with you. I like what we have. I'm not going to let some stupid Hyde take that away.”
Wednesday’s pupils darted away at the mention of Tyler. “Then I suppose it is a race, yes? We shall see which one of us prevails in their respective realms. Dead, or living.”
“Fine.” Enid scoffed, “even though you're going to lose.”
“I'm Wednesday Addams. I happen to be quite skilled at not losing.”
“I guess there's a reason we're copilots and not competition usually, huh?”
“As you said: we work. We shouldn't, but we do.”
“Good. Because I will not be responsible for your death again.” Enid must've said it without thinking, because her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth. Wednesday inhaled deeply.
“Tyler was responsible for my death.”
“I could've stopped him.” Enid's voice was a mumble, and then it grew louder. “I should've been quicker, I should've not tripped. I messed up, and now you're dead, and it's all my fault!”
“So, you're doing this out of self-pity? To right your imaginary wrong?”
“No!” Enid protested. “I'm doing it because I care about you so much I'll put you before myself, over, and over, and over again, even when you do nothing but betray my trust.” She stomped her foot. “I'm not going to help aid in killing you when I'll never forgive myself for not saving you the first time around.”
“You did what you could.”
“And it still wasn't good enough.” Enid’s voice was steely, and those same words flashed through her mind. Familiar words. She sounded like her mother. “You're still dead. I didn't do shit. I didn't–” she gestured tearfully to the scratches painting her face. “I didn't earn them, like you said. I didn't do anything, I didn't save anyone. All they are is a reminder that I got the most important person in the world to me killed because I didn't step in fast enough. So no, Willa, I will not help you cast some b.s. magic spell to help you kill yourself again, when I could right this wrong!”
“You are irritatingly stubborn.”
“Girls who live in glass houses…”
“Should throw bigger stones, I know.” Wednesday’s mind flashed back to Xavier. It was funny. Even when she hung out with Tyler, or Xavier, all she could think about was going home and telling Enid about it, because Enid loved those types of things. Enid liked boys, or at least, the attention from boys. Enid liked attention in general. Wednesday was often more than content to provide it; Enid was fascinating to look at and listen to when she was talking about something such as werewolf biology or a book from class.
“Hey!” Enid’s voice snapped her out of it. “Casper the unfriendly ghost, did you hear me?”
“No.”
“Well, I said that tl;dr, you're not getting me to help with your assisted suicide, you're not getting Fester, so you better suck it up and start prepping to be brought back to life. Capisce?”
Wednesday stared at her with intrigue. “Game on, Old Yeller.”
“That's so much worse than Casper the unfriendly ghost.”
“Continue complaining, and I'll make sure you end up like the dog as well.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Enid picked her things up. “Loser.”
“Actually,” Wednesday drawled, strolling beside the lycan, “I'm about to be a winner.”
From across the quad, a pair of ocean-tide blue eyes watched them with intrigue. The owner of them turned on their heel, shoes clicking all the way to the stand-in principal’s office. They raised their fist, knocking once, twice, three times.
“Come in.” The replacement adjusted his glasses, squinting up at the student. “Ah, Ms. Barclay! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Principal,” Bianca said, fiddling with her necklace. “A few of my peers and I would like to raise a concern about a fellow student.”
The principal raised an eyebrow, and with a flick of his hand, the door closed.
“Elaborate.”
“Well, sir,” Bianca pulled up a chair without asking, sitting down and making direct eye contact. She inhaled. “It's about Enid Sinclair.”