OH, Black Cats

17. Wednesday Addams | Space

Thing crawled onto the desk, having heard the entire argument. Wednesday turned sharply. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"I hope you're going to fix this."

"Why? Clearly they don't care enough to stay and have it out. Why should I be the one to piece things back together?"

Thing said nothing, but sat there in a way that said, Really?

Wednesday grit her teeth. "You're very passive aggressive for a hand."

"You're one to talk," Thing tapped back, "and ouch. Don't you think they might've needed some space?"

Wednesday paused. She hadn't thought of that, actually — not that she'd ever let Thing know that. "Fine then," Wednesday conceded. "What do you suggest?"

And, for once, Wednesday took someone else's advice.

She gave you the space you needed. For the next day and a half you received total radio silence from Wednesday. She still took her seat next to you in class, but she kept as far away from you as possible and didn't attempt conversation — not that Wednesday could ever endure small talk.

Eventually you were so unnerved by her behavior that you spoke to her, leaning over and keeping your voice to a whisper beneath Thornhill's lesson. "Wednesday? What are you doing? Are you alright?" you asked.

"I'm giving you space," she said, not meeting your eye. The words sounded unnatural in her voice. "Thing suggested it," she added quickly.

You sat back in your chair, a perplexed crease forming between your brows. This was very un-Wednesday like behavior. You weren't upset of course, just surprised. Not only at the fact that Wednesday was willingly giving you the space you needed, but that she actually took advice from Thing. It made your heart give a little flutter as you attempted to focus back on the lesson.

Wednesday never paced, but she had never been closer to doing it than she was that evening. She skipped dinner with the intention of writing her novel, but found herself staring at a blank page, unable to write a thing. Rain pounded the large stained glass window on the opposite side of the room. She had never suffered from writer's block before. This was excruciating, and not in a good way. She let out a slow breath, and finally something snapped. That's it.

She got up and strode to the door of her dorm with the intention of meeting you in the courtyard and demanding that you settle your argument from two nights ago, a crack of thunder scoring her sudden outburst. But just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, she heard a knock.

You stood out in the hallway, shivering and soaked with rain, your blazer wrapped tightly around you. The greeting you had prepared was quickly tossed away as you gave a sudden sneeze, a shiver running down your spine. You looked back at Wednesday and the words died on your tongue.

Instantly she pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you and getting one of Enid's fuzzy (revolting) blankets to wrap around your shoulders. Wednesday didn't often have these, God forbid, motherly urges very often, but again, a lot of things about Wednesday changed when she was around you. And the sight of you shaking in the cold on her doorstep was enough to thaw her frozen heart.

Once she was satisfied that you were slowly being warmed up, she stepped back, letting you dry the rain droplets from your cheeks and hair. Thing subtly crawled onto the desk and Wednesday saw it subtly sign out of the corner of her eye: "Talk."

Wednesday set her lips in a grim line. This was the part she always had trouble with. "Y/n —"

"I know you were just trying to protect me, Wednesday," you cut her off quickly. "I know that now, and I appreciate it. I didn't like what Leah was doing, and I know you didn't either, but I needed to try and figure out how to fix it in my own way first. I know that you want to look out for me, but I'm capable of fighting my own battles. I need you to tell me that you understand that."

Wednesday paused. And now she understood. This was what you had been trying to say the night of the argument — you just hadn't been able to get the words out right. Space. Space had allowed you to understand what you needed to say and what you needed to hear. Wednesday understood that now — and more importantly, she could respect it. "I understand," she said, "and I'm sorry."

You almost gasped. Wednesday rarely apologized for the things she did, especially to the people she did them to. But this was genuine.

She continued, "I don't regret what I did to Leah, but I do regret that it hurt you."

You nodded in understanding.

"I don't like seeing the people I love get hurt."

All at once you felt tears rushing to your eyes. Not the bad kind. You pushed them away with a hard swallow, sniffing. "I love you too, Wednesday," you said. "And I promise that if my way of fixing something doesn't work, you'll be the first person I call."

Wednesday felt a rush of something then, something that flushed in her cheeks and almost drew the corners of her lips up. She struggled to stifle it, but every glance at your rosy face made her that much more willing to surrender to it.

"Can I give you a hug?" you asked. You and Wednesday had reached a point where you could hug her without asking first, but you liked to get the clarification every once in a while.

Once you received a brisk nod, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her and enveloping both of you in Enid's thick purple blanket. Wednesday wrapped her arms around your waist, letting herself bury her head in your shoulder. She allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of being wrapped up with you, holding you tightly and knowing that you were together.

The storm continued to rage outside, but you two were warm and safe in the knowledge that, when you were together, there was nothing that couldn't be fixed.