Summary:
An inane game of Truth or Dare leads Wednesday to have an unexpected vision involving Enid.
"Awhh, gorgeous!" Enid gasps, clasping her hands together in unadulterated glee.
"Drop-dead." Wednesday shoots back with a sour stare fierce enough to send an entire army running for the hills.
Why Wednesday Addams thought letting Enid Sinclair talk her into wearing a brand new snood was a remotely good idea eludes her. Call it a temporary lapse in judgement or a case of misplaced generosity, but whatever it is, Wednesday needs to toss this awful fabric nightmare off of her and fast. Wearing the first one of these hideous concoctions made by Enid had been bad enough, but to make the same mistake twice?! This is torture—and not the fun kind.
And yet, for whatever reason, Wednesday feels like she can't back out of this. No, she has promised Enid she'll do this and she is determined to be as committed as an asylum patient, even if it physically pains her to go through with this. Perhaps because, for some reason, Wednesday doesn't completely hate that dorky smile on Enid's face or those hands brushing against her shoulder after each fit of giggles. God, for a minute, just chilling there with Enid, Wednesday almost swears she has a heart.
Then, she remembers this Fur is the reason she's dressed up in the barfed up bastard child of a quilt, sweater, scarf, and hoodie, and quickly dispels that notion.
Yet, wearing this snood is only the tip of this horrifying iceberg, Wednesday fears, as she inexplicably agreed to have an...ugh...girl's night. What on God's gray earth was she thinking?! Why did being around her almost certainly over-caffeinated roommate do this to her? She's pretty sure she'd have clearer thinking lobotomized.
"And, yes, this is Taylor's Version, obvs." Enid explains upon blasting some inane song that Wednesday noted may serve as a solid waterboarding substitute the next time she gets the chance to torture Pugsley, even as her pigtailed head almost involuntarily bounces along to the blaring beat and mindless lyrics.
And of course, she offers her incomparable insight, musing, "You know...'22' would make a pretty impressive victim count for a serial killer."
After an appropriately long horrified pause at that, Enid moves things along, "Sooo, anywaaayyy, what do you wanna do first? Mani-pedis? Makeovers? Would You Rather?!? Ooh, or maybe Truth or Dare?!?!"
"And 'none of the above' isn't an option?" Wednesday dryly clarifies, getting a reply in the form of an infuriatingly...oh God, was she actually thinking this word...cute pout, which soon has her sighing, "Fine. That last one, I guess."
"Yay!" Enid gives a little clap before insisting, "You start."
"Um ok. Truth or dare?" Wednesday asks with all the searing enthusiasm of a root canal recipient.
"Hmm...oh gosh..." Enid thinks it over. "T-Truth?"
"You sure about that?" Wednesday quips.
"Truth." Enid nods, her voice a little more firm.
"Ok..." Wednesday pauses then calmly and casually asks. "When we die, where do we end up? Do you believe in the illusion of heaven or hell or do you recognize that waiting for us at the end of life is an all consuming black void, leaving us in pitch black for all eternity as our body becomes an all-you-can eat buffet for worms and maggots?"
"Um, W-Wednesday." Enid interrupts, a bit shaken.
"What?" Wednesday shrugs. "It's a simple question."
"I know bringing down the vibe is kind of your thing but..." Enid trails off before explaining. "These questions are supposed to be about fun things."
"So, cadavers? Electrocutions? Autopsies?" Wednesday questions.
"Boys. Clothes. Food." Enid counters.
"We aren't even that cruel to prisoners of war." The woeful girl caustically responds.
"Wednesday!" The bubbly werewolf whines. "Just...try to keep an open mind, ok?"
If the closed off goth had any sense left, she'd shut all of this down and have herself an evening alone in a cemetery somewhere. Yet, again, there's apparently some part of her twisted brain that just can not compute saying no to Enid Sinclair, and so she again folds in spite of herself.
"Fine." Wednesday sighs.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Enid beams. "Ok, so, you pick 'truth' and I'll show you how it's done."
"Sounds like a challenge." Wednesday raises an eyebrow. "But alright...truth."
Enid gives a nice dramatic pause then flashes a mischievous smirk. "Do you have feelings for anyone at Nevermore?"
"Enid," Wednesday frowns. "You should know more than anyone that I don't do feelings. They're a waste of time."
"So, you're not crushing on aaannyyyoonee?" Enid incredulously inquires.
Wednesday feels her face flush, and given how pale she already is, that is really saying something. But hearing this peppy pain-in-the-neck talk about 'feelings' and 'crushes' was somehow a surefire way to make Wednesday feel jittery—almost nervous even—though she isn't quite sure why.
Doing her best to keep her composure, Wednesday sorrowfully admits, "It's just...the last time I allowed myself to fall for anyone, they turned out to be pure evil disguised as a barista."
"I get it." Enid softly sympathizes before slightly pushing back. "But that was, like, a total freak thing and—OH HOLD ON! DANCE BREAK!"
"If you wanna run away with me, I know a galaxy And I can take you for a ride"
Enid goes ballistic as 'Levitating' graces her Spotify queue, blasting over her bluetooth speaker and all throughout the room. With her stuffed unicorn in hand, Enid twirls around like an absolute fool—her fool, Wednesday thinks with a grin of all things. Hell, the gothic teen can almost feel herself wanting to...ew...laugh WITH Enid, even as her ears bleed.
However, the dark-souled detective has little time to process or analyze those instinctive reactions before Enid's syrupy sweet voice cuts through, "Your turn, Wednesday."
"O-Oh." Wednesday clears her throat, dropping back to reality. "Truth or dare?"
Enid overdramatically strokes her chin and smolders while thinking it over, and then emphatically answers, "Dare."
"Ok." Wednesday starts. "I dare you to turn that music off."
"Wednesdayyyyy." Enid groans.
"Yes?" The misery-addled teen replies without a beat.
"That's like the opposite of a fun thing." The perky blonde bemoans.
"Really?" Wednesday's lips curled down. "Because it makes things so much more fun for me."
Enid sighs and obliges, sending Dua Lipa a wistful goodbye as she presses pause on her screen.
"Happy?" Enid petulantly grumbles.
"As an organ harvester at a transplant center." Wednesday simpers back.
"My turn." Enid ignores that and proudly declares. "Truth or dare?"
Given how uncomfortable 'truth' had made her feel last time, Wednesday apprehensively selects, "Dare."
Worryingly, Enid's eyes light up like a Christmas tree, as she really says with her whole chest, "Do a back handspring!"
"Absolutely not." Wednesday immediately shoots her down.
"Wednesdayyy?" Enid hopefully pushes. "Open mind, remember?"
"I have limits." Wednesday growls.
"Sooo...you're scared?" Enid needles.
"Fear is a social construct." The outcast barks at the werewolf.
"Exactly." Enid smirks. "So, what are you waiting for?"
Every bone in her body is screaming at Wednesday to continue to profusely refuse, but the Poe-esque detective instead takes a breath and bemusedly states, "Despite what people say, I think you're the crazy one."
With that, she gets a kind of...ughh...adorable laugh from her roommate, which for some reason, makes Wednesday actually want to go through with this a little bit more. Taking another breath, Wednesday hopes for the best and expects the worst. Leave it to Enid Sinclair to be the one to ultimately bring her to her untimely death.
Sure enough, Wednesday is many things, but gymnast is not one of them, the poor crime-solver barely knowing where to start when it comes to this maneuver, which shows in the way she almost instantly looks like she's about to fall right onto the floor, causing Enid to race over, fearfully shouting, "Oh my God! Wednesday!!"
The young Addams gasps as she crashes into the canine-toothed spark plug, the serotonin-heavy furball managing to cushion her fall, wrapping her arms around the lilywhite adventuress. Recovering in her roommate's embrace, Wednesday feels a sharp jolt surge through her, the pasty pariah squeamishly shrieking right in her unexpected friend's wincing face.
A vision.
****
There she is, slightly older, slightly wiser, and outwardly projecting happiness as much as is possible for her, clad in a dark-as-night black dress and veil while standing amidst a crowd inside a gorgeous gothic castle.
Her wedding day.
There's her father next to her, his arm in her arm, the passionate patriarch predictably barely able to prevent his blubbering. She gives him a reassuring glance—in many ways, she's walking him down the aisle. They both exhale, simultaneously incredibly ready and woefully unprepared.
It has been a deliciously dreadful ceremony so far. Pugsley makes quite the 'flower girl', mindlessly tossing deadened rose petals down the aisle. Lurch stands at the front of this gloomy interior, clutching a dusty book of spells and hexes, ready to grunt out the proceedings. And she knows Thing is waiting in the wings with the ring that will seal a bond stronger than even the finest tying rope could offer.
But, unsurprisingly, Wednesday's attention is drawn the most to her groom. His towhead slicked down, his cerulean gray eyes gleaming, his lips coated in a glossy cotton candy pink, his suit a bright and blinding angelic white, and his dress shoes thrown out in favor of a pair of casper-colored roach killers.
Enid.
It's Enid.
It's Enid!!!
****
Wednesday's shallow breath races faster than a killer on the run, her head left spinning more than the Exorcist girl. Wednesday forcefully fights out of the other girl's grip, frantically backing away from her with a vexed wordless stare.
"W...Wednesday?" Enid tilts her head like a confused puppy, which she kind of is.
"I...I..."
Wednesday's soulless eyes are wide, like she's just seen a ghost—no, she'd be chill with that. Like she's just seen a sorority girl.
"I should go."
Wednesday's breath is as shallow as a shoddily-dug grave. The hapless high schooler makes a beeline for the door, but Enid gets in her way, blocking the sardonic sleuth from exiting.
"Wait!" Enid practically shouts, then anxiously softens her tone. "W-What did you see?"
Wednesday's heart, telltale as ever, is pounding against her chest, because how the hell is she supposed to answer that?! She can't—she can't answer it. And so she just stands there as still as a corpse, her most recent glimpse into the future endlessly looping through her brain, until she somehow manages to collect herself and croak out something resembling a reply back.
"It's not your turn." Wednesday shakily catches her breath. "Truth or dare?"
Getting whiplash from how quickly this cold-blooded outsider had calmed down, Enid stays silent for a second and then cautiously whispers, "Truth."
A question pops into her head right away but gets lodged in her throat. Wednesday swallows hard, barely recognizing her surroundings anymore. The world, Nevermore, Ophelia Hall, Enid Sinclair, all of it had seemingly changed when she wasn't looking, and all thanks to that stupid vision. She wipes her clammy hands on the bottom of her skirt and once more just barely catches her thrown breath. She looks Enid in the eyes. She gulps again. She speaks.
"Do...you...have feelings for anyone at Nevermore?" Wednesday asks and adds, "Besides your dearest Ajax, of course."
She says the name of Enid's suitor like it's an epithet, her disdain unmistakable. She's remorseful right after, but it doesn't matter. Her true feelings had peeked through. Her...true...feelings...for...Enid. Oh God, she needs to lie down.
Taking notice of her roommate's misplaced venom, Enid visibly cringes and purses her lips before confessing, "A...Ajax and I are actually on a break right now. Just needed some time apart."
"O...Oh." Wednesday croaks back.
"But, there is someone else...I think."
Wednesday isn't ready for that sentence. She could've been given all the time in the world to mentally prepare herself for those words and she still wouldn't have been able to handle them. No, that looming unknown hits her like a runaway train, and Wednesday has to keep herself from collapsing. Oh, this legacy student typically can't be bothered to give a damn what anyone thinks about her, so why does the harrowing prospect of Enid's rejection feel like it would sting worse than one of Eugene's bees?! And yet, she can't find out which way the wind blows unless she sticks out her weathervane.
"Wh-Who?" Wednesday eventually forces out, loathing how weak she sounds.
"Uh-uh. It's not your turn." Enid tosses Wednesday's words back at her with a smug smirk that drives the curious disruptor absolutely wild. "Truth or dare?"
Wednesday's at an impossible crossroads. Pick dare and she'll end up landing on top of this inhumanly cheery werewolf then having a life-ruining vision. Pick truth and she'll basically be thrust into another awful therapy session, with Enid taking Dr. Kinbott's place. It's a lose-lose if Wednesday's ever seen one, and thus, she's at a loss on what to do.
Ultimately, sadly realizing she can't stay silent forever, Wednesday sighs, "Truth."
"What did you see?" Enid asks again, the question throttled out of her mouth before she can consider whether she truly wants the answer.
Wednesday goes to respond and her jaw clenches, as if outside forces are desperately attempting to prevent her from revealing the insanity she had just witnessed. She opens her mouth and no sound comes out. She tries again and finds the same result. Inhale. Exhale. One last ditch effort. It's a titanic struggle but she at last gasps out one measly little word.
"You."
"Explain." Enid pleads.
"Maybe next turn." Wednesday dismisses. "Truth or dare?"
"That's not faiiirrr!!!" Enid howls.
"Truth. Or. Dare?" Wednesday unwaveringly reiterates.
Enid feels the overwhelming urge to protest some more, but doesn't want to rock the boat, so she bitterly mutters, "Truth."
Again, Wednesday takes ages to even part her lips, and the normally buoyant blonde can't hide her frustration anymore, dramatically tossing her hands into the air and plopping down onto her bed.
Coincidentally, that's around the same time Wednesday finally finds the strength to ask, "Could you see yourself with a girl?"
Enid nearly falls off her bed.
Registering those words fully, Enid carefully responds, "I don't not see myself with a girl, you know? Just whoever's right."
"Right." Wednesday nods, never tensing up so much in her life.
Backing off from her planned topic of Wednesday's mysterious vision for now, Enid instead posits, "Same question to you."
"I choose 'dare'." Wednesday stealthily counters.
"I dare you to answer the same question." Enid comes back.
"That's cheating." Wednesday hisses but begrudgingly admits. "I respect it."
Wednesday then dances around the question—figuratively of course, as she would never be caught alive busting a move—but, when all is said and done, musters up enough courage to offer a response.
"Yes I do." Wednesday affirms, then mortifiedly corrects "Can. Whatever."
Enid snickers and Wednesday knows that if she didn't care about her...friend...so much, she'd be reaching for her hatchet right then and there. Miraculously, she maintains her composure, moving a step closer to her more colorful roommate before asking, "Truth or dare?"
Enid weighs her options.
"Truth."
"This someone else you have feelings for at Nevermore?" Wednesday begins then feels her heart rate skyrocket. "A-Are they a girl?"
Each second of silence that follows eats away at Wednesday, the girl about ready to rip her pigtails out until she hears Enid's voice.
"Maybe." Enid noncommittally whispers.
"Maybe?" Wednesday crosses her arms.
"You barely answered my vision question earlier! You owe me one." Enid elaborates then questions. "Truth or dare?"
"Dare." Wednesday declares after taking another step forward.
"I dare you to reenact your vision." Enid challenges.
"Uch, what do you take me for? Some kind of theatre kid?" Wednesday shudders at the thought.
Nevertheless, she complies, mimicking walking down the aisle. That doesn't seem to quite do the trick, so she straightens her posture and busts out a bellowing 'dearly beloved'. Enid still seems lost so Wednesday attempts to prance around like a flower girl tossing around the petals. When that garners apparently zero recognition, Wednesday tries delivering some ad-libbed vows, pantomimes throwing a bouquet, improvises a first dance by herself, but Enid is giving her nothing.
"A WEDDING!" Wednesday furiously shouts, completely shattering her usual monotone tone. "I SAW A WEDDING! WITH YOU! AND ME! AND...you got it after the first one, didn't you?"
"Yup!" Enid laughs, even as the current glare fixed on Wednesday's face scares the heebie jeebies out of her. "But...a wedding? With me? And—"
"Truth or dare?" Wednesday frantically interrupts.
"Dare."
Wednesday bites her lip. This one's dangerous.
"I dare you...to text your Nevermore crush." Wednesday says, wanting to reach out and shove those words back into her mouth.
Wednesday can't even look at Enid after that, her gaze drifting over to Thing, who's apparently been watching (well, "watching") this unfold the whole time. He happily pats the table, his equivalent of applause, and Wednesday pointedly shoos him away. Thankfully, he takes the hint, crawling into the corner and facing away from the two roommates.
And that's when Wednesday's phone buzzes.
Her hands legitimately trembling, Wednesday grabs a hold of that device and is rendered catatonic by the notification waiting there for her.
Enid:
welp, erm, here's your text😜
No, no, no! Enid's making Wednesday feel way too many emotions, i.e. more than zero—this isn't healthy! But knowing she now has to address the were-elephant in the room, Wednesday puts on a brave stone face and inches closer to Enid, searching for something to say.
"Truth or dare?" Enid softly murmurs, cutting Wednesday off before she can even start.
"...Dare." Wednesday replies just as softly.
Taking a few steps forward herself, Enid challenges, albeit with a quiver in her voice, "I dare you to respond."
There's really only one thought going through Wednesday's head and it makes her skin crawl. It's a thought that's so...'normie'...of her, so unlike the telekinetic freakazoid she knows she is. A thought that has only crossed her mind and that she has subsequently acted on once before, and doing so had made her life a living nightmare in the aftermath—which sounds cool but it definitely wasn't. However, against her wishes, the thought persists. She knows there could be consequences, major consequences. She knows this is as big a risk as all her breaking in and sneaking out combined. But she also knows she'll get no closer to closure until she jumps into the deep end of these piranha infested waters.
With every last bit of caution violently hurdled towards the wind, Wednesday closes the remaining gap between herself and Enid. They gaze into each other's eyes for a second or two then nod, and in a snap, Wednesday's lips crash into Enid's. Days, weeks, months of pent-up lust and l...lo...lov...curiosity unravel for Wednesday, her hands wrapped around the back of Enid's neck. Likewise, the lycanthrope lets a litany of longstanding emotions at long last roam free when she reciprocates this liplock, her hands clasping around Wednesday's back. They let themselves melt into this kiss, figuring they've both earned it, genuinely not caring how much time ticks by as they close their eyes, their affection speaking volumes in the otherwise silent room.
However, as the saying goes, all good things must end. They break away, Wednesday breathless, Enid panting. Their first kiss together! An hour or so ago, the night had started with Enid handing Wednesday a stupid snood, and now they've both just kissed each other. And while Wednesday isn't sure how far into the future her vision is, she's incredibly grateful for it. Her first kiss with a guy may have wound up an unmitigated disaster, but her first kiss with a girl seems to be anything but, Wednesday confident that will hold true as she haphazardly falls into a hug with her new...partner .
Yes really—a hug!
"Sooo...maybe Wednesday Addams is a hugger after all?" Enid pushes hopefully although she should know better.
Sure enough, Wednesday swiftly lets go of her roommate-turned-something-more and scowls, "If you so much as think those words again, whatever this is between us will meet an untimely end."
Though, as she delivers that threat, she can't quite keep her lips from curling into something resembling a full-on smile. Thankfully, Enid then retrieves her phone and resumes her painful playlist, complete with an off-key karaoke serenade of "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction, and thus she ensures Wednesday returns to her dour mood in no time.
Question of the day: What's your favorite food?