Chapter Text
The first thing Wednesday Addams learned about Enid Sinclair was that she was remarkably easy to observe.
The second was that she was difficult to ignore.
It was an unfortunate combination, particularly for someone who had spent the better part of her life cultivating an appreciation for solitude. Wednesday had always considered other people to be an unnecessary irritation, best tolerated in small doses and preferably at a distance. Her roommate, however, had proven to be a persistent exception to that rule.
Enid was loud, excessively so. She possessed an almost supernatural ability to fill an otherwise perfectly quiet room with meaningless conversation, usually concerning subjects Wednesday had neither the interest nor the patience to entertain. Her wardrobe was an affront to good taste, her sleeping habits were atrocious, and her insistence on maintaining a cheerful attitude bordered on psychological warfare.
And yet, Wednesday found herself increasingly fascinated by her.
It was a fascination she had initially dismissed as scientific curiosity. Enid was, after all, a werewolf. An alpha, at that. Her biology alone presented numerous opportunities for study, and Wednesday had always possessed a particular fondness for the unusual. Her roommate's peculiar behavioral patterns, however, had proven far more interesting. Wednesday had begun documenting them approximately three weeks earlier.
Her observations had initially been rather straightforward. Enid preferred strawberry-flavoured sweets to chocolates, slept predominantly on her stomach, and exhibited a distressing tendency to talk in her sleep. She was particularly susceptible to compliments concerning her hair, although she became noticeably embarrassed whenever Wednesday delivered one without an accompanying insult. The latter had been especially entertaining.
Wednesday had made a habit of complimenting Enid's hair whenever she appeared particularly pleased with herself. The resulting expressions of confusion and delight were worth the effort, even if Wednesday would sooner have swallowed a handful of thumbtacks than admit it. After all, how else was she supposed to ensure that her observations remained consistent?
She had also started collecting things. It had happened accidentally, at first. A few weeks earlier, Enid had misplaced a pink hair tie. Wednesday had discovered it beneath their couch while searching for a particularly interesting book she had dropped. Rather than return it immediately, she had placed it on her desk, intending to give it back when the opportunity presented itself.
The opportunity never arrived.
Instead, Wednesday had found herself placing the hair tie inside a small wooden box she had acquired from an antique shop in Jericho. The box was old, its dark surface decorated with intricate carvings that resembled a collection of intertwined serpents. It had originally contained a collection of Victorian mourning jewelry, but Wednesday had found its previous contents rather uninspiring. The hair tie, on the other hand, had proven considerably more interesting.
She had added a second item a few days later: a small silver earring Enid had lost while getting ready for class. Then came a crumpled piece of paper bearing Enid's handwriting, followed by a broken bracelet that had apparently snapped during one of her more enthusiastic attempts at decorating their dormitory.
Wednesday had kept every single one, although she had no apparent reason as to why. Perhaps it was the satisfaction of possessing something that had belonged to her most intriguing research subject. Perhaps she simply appreciated the sentimental value of objects that had been in close contact with someone particularly fascinating. Whatever the explanation, she found herself rather unwilling to part with them. And so, the collection continued to grow.
~~
Rain had been falling over nevermore since early afternoon, transforming the school's sprawling gothic architecture into something resembling a particularly elaborate cemetery. Water trickled down the stained-glass windows of Ophelia Hall, casting distorted patterns of colour across the dormitory floor. The occasional rumble of thunder accompanied the steady patter of rain against the glass.
Wednesday found the weather exceptionally agreeable.
She sat at her desk, dressed in her usual black attire, with her dark hair neatly arranged in two braids. A half-empty cup of coffee sat beside her notebook, long since abandoned in favor of more interesting pursuits. Her attention was focused entirely on the small wooden box resting before her.
She had recently acquired a new specimen: a lock of Enid's hair.
It was golden, almost impossibly bright against the dark velvet lining of the box. Wednesday had collected it from the bathroom earlier that morning, where it had wound up in the trash following Enid's morning grooming routine. She had spent a considerable amount of time examining it beneath a magnifying glass. The results had been fascinating, although hardly unexpected. The hair exhibited several unusual characteristics consistent with the physiological differences between werewolves and other outcasts. Wednesday had recorded her findings in meticulous detail before carefully placing the specimen into the wooden box. She was currently considering whether to preserve it.
A sudden burst of laughter interrupted her thoughts.
“Wednesday! You are never going to believe what happened in botany today!”
Wednesday closed her eyes. Of course, Enid had returned.
The door swung open, and her roommate practically bounced into the room, her colourful clothing providing an almost offensive contrast to the gloomy atmosphere. Her blonde hair was tied into a messy ponytail, although several strands had escaped and now framed her face. She carried a paper bag in one hand and a rather suspicious-looking collection of flowers in the other. Wednesday regarded her with the expression of someone who had just discovered a particularly unpleasant insect in her breakfast.
“Unless your botany instructor spontaneously combusted, I sincerely doubt the event warrants my attention.”
Enid ignored the remark with practiced ease.
“First of all, rude. Second of all, I think I accidentally killed a plant.”
“How unfortunate. Was it poisonous?”
“No!”
“Then I fail to see the problem.”
Enid rolled her eyes and crossed the room, dropping her bag onto the bed. She began removing various objects from it, including a notebook, a water bottle, and what appeared to be a small container of glitter. Wednesday watched her with mild irritation. Enid had a habit of spreading her belongings across every available surface, a practice Wednesday had repeatedly condemned as an unacceptable violation of their shared living space. Her roommate, however, seemed to regard the concept of organization as a personal insult.
“Anyway,” Enid continued, “the plant was already kinda dying when I got there, so I don't think it was entirely my fault.”
“Your defense is as compelling as it is poorly constructed.”
“Thanks!”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I know.” Enid grinned and returned to unpacking her belongings.
Wednesday turned back towards the box. She had left the lid open. A mistake. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the implications. Enid was observant when she wanted to be, although her attention was usually directed toward matters of considerably less importance. There was a possibility she might notice the contents if she happened to glance in the wrong direction. Wednesday had reached for the lid, but unfortunately, she was interrupted.
“Hey, what's that?”
Her hand stopped. Enid was looking directly at the box. Wednesday regarded her with an expression of profound indifference, although a small, unwelcome tension had begun to form in her shoulders.
“An antique.”
“Ooh! Can I see?”
“No.”
Enid blinked. “Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is when I'm the one saying it.” Wednesday quipped, silently hoping this would be the end of the conversation.
Sure enough, Enid sighed with a faint grin, apparently delighted by the exchange. She returned to her bed, but Wednesday noticed that her attention remained fixed on the little wooden box.
An uncomfortable silence followed. Wednesday slowly closed the lid, knowing she will now have to find a good hiding spot before Enid's curiosity takes hold of her.
~~
Enid Sinclair had always considered herself reasonably good at reading people. She was particularly skilled at recognizing when someone was upset, even if they insisted otherwise. She could usually tell when Wednesday was irritated, when she was bored, and when she was preparing to say something particularly unpleasant.
Recently, however, she had begun noticing something rather peculiar. Wednesday watched her.
Not in the ordinary way people watched one another during conversations. There was something about it, something that Enid couldn't quite put her finger on. She would occasionally catch Wednesday staring at her from across the room, her dark eyes following her movements with an intensity that was almost unnerving. Sometimes, when Enid looked back, Wednesday would immediately turn her attention to whatever she had been doing. Other times, she wouldn't. And that was when things became more interesting.
There had been an incident in the library a few days earlier when Enid had caught Wednesday staring at her for nearly five minutes. She had been sitting at a table with Ajax, discussing an upcoming school event, when she noticed the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Wednesday had been standing between two bookshelves, holding a particularly gruesome-looking volume. She hadn't moved. Enid smiled and waved, but Wednesday only continued staring. It was strange. But, much to her dismay, rather attractive.
She had always found Wednesday beautiful. That much was hardly a secret, at least not to herself. Her roommate possessed a certain elegance that Enid found difficult to describe, an almost theatrical sort of beauty that seemed entirely appropriate for someone who dressed like she was perpetually attending a funeral. Her dark eyes were particularly captivating, especially when she was irritated. And her voice, God her voice. Enid had spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about Wednesday's voice.
She was fairly certain she had developed a crush. Unfortunately, Wednesday Addams was not exactly the sort of person who made romantic feelings easy to navigate. She had never shown any particular interest in dating, and her opinions on physical affection were very well documented. Enid had, upon several occasions, attempted to hug her, only to receive a response that had made it abundantly clear that such gestures were not welcome.
She had stopped trying. Not because she didn't want to, she simply respected Wednesday's boundaries. Still, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like if Wednesday actually wanted her affection.
The thought had occupied her mind considerably more than she cared to admit.
And now, Wednesday was keeping secrets. She knew exactly where Wednesday hid the box, as her roomie seemed to misjudge her abilities to sniff things out.
She wondered what Wednesday was hiding.
~~
Wednesday had just finished writing her latest observation when she heard the unmistakable sound of Enid humming.
It was an irritating habit. Her roommate hummed constantly, usually without realizing it. The melodies were almost always cheerful, occasionally accompanied by an equally irritating amount of finger tapping.
Wednesday had considered several methods of discouraging the behavior. None of them had proven to be particularly effective.
She glanced toward Enid, who was currently sitting cross legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Her hair was loose now, spilling over her shoulders in a golden cascade that Wednesday found herself examining with increased interest.
There was something appealing about the way the light caught it. She wondered whether the colour was natural.
She already knew the answer, of course. Enid had mentioned it several times, usually while discussing the various stages of her transformation into a werewolf. Nevertheless, Wednesday found herself wondering what Enid's hair felt like.
The thought was immediately dismissed. Physical contact was an unnecessary inconvenience. She returned her attention to her notebook.
Subject: Enid Sinclair
Observed behavior: Increased frequency of vocalization during periods of apparent relaxation. The subject exhibits a pronounced tendency toward spontaneous humming, particularly when engaged in
activities involving electronic devices.
Additional observations: Subject appears to have developed a peculiar habit of staring at the researcher.
Wednesday paused. She considered the statement. It was true, after all. Enid had been watching her with increased frequency, occasionally smiling for reasons Wednesday couldn't begin to comprehend.
Perhaps she had taken notice of the research. The possibility was intriguing. Wednesday added another sentence to her notebook.
Hypothesis: Subject may be developing an awareness of the researcher's interest.
She stared at the page for several moments before closing the notebook. There was something deeply unsatisfactory about the hypothesis. She wanted to know whether Enid was aware of her fascination.
More importantly, she wanted to know if Enid would object.
~~
It was nearly midnight when Enid finally decided to go to bed.
The rain had stopped, leaving the windows streaked with water and the surrounding grounds shrouded in a thick layer of mist. The dormitory was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old building and the distant sound of someone laughing in the hallway.
Wednesday was still awake. She had been reading for several hours, although her attention had repeatedly wandered toward Enid’s side of the room.
Her roommate was already deep in her sleep, curled beneath a bright pink blanket with one arm hanging over the edge of her bed. Her breathing was slow and even, and her golden hair had spread across the pillow in a rather untidy arrangement.
Wednesday watched her for a moment. She resisted the persistent urge to walk over there, to brush her hair back before cradling her face in her hands.
Wednesday slammed the book shut.
These thoughts were new, and not at all welcomed. Under no circumstance would Wednesday ever willingly place her hands on anyone. Even someone as intriguing as Enid Sinclair.
Pushing the unwanted thoughts aside, she allowed her gaze to return to the sleeping werewolf. There was something strangely peaceful about enid when she was asleep/ the usual barrage of conversation had ceased, leaving behind a silence that Wednesday found unexpectedly pleasant.
She stood and crossed the room, stopping beside Enid's bed. Her roommate stirred, causing Wednesday to freeze. After several seconds, Enid settled again. Wednesday exhaled quietly. She had no intention of waking her. Instead , she reached down and carefully retrieved a small object from the floor beside the bed.
A pink hair clip. One that had apparently fallen from Enid's hair earlier that evening. Wednesday examined it beneath the soft glow of Enid's abrasive string fairy lights. It was an entirely unremarkable object, made of inexpensive plastic and decorated with a small plastic flower.
She turned it over in her fingers. Then, after a moment's consideration, she placed it in her pocket. There was no particular reason for keeping it. At least, none that she was willing to acknowledge.
She returned to her desk and retrieved the wooden box. The collection had grown considerably over the past few weeks. All of her previous findings were neatly arranged. She placed the newly acquired hair clip beside them, taking care to position it so that it wouldn't block the view from the other objects.
She closed the lid, sliding the box back into its secret location, making sure it was not visible from any angle.
For several seconds, she simply stared. A strange feeling settled in her chest, it was unfamiliar, unpleasantly warm, and accompanied by an equally unfamiliar desire to smile.
Wednesday frowned. She had no idea what it meant or why it arrived. And she had absolutely no intention of finding out.
~~~
The following morning, Enid woke to the sound of Wednesday's typewriter. She groaned and pulled her blanket over her head.
“Wednesday, it’s seven in the morning.”
“An observation that does little to explain your continued existence in a state of distress”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Whatever,” Enid sighed, not awake enough to continue this banter. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. She glanced toward Wednesday's desk, where her roommate was typing with the sort of determination usually reserved for particularly important scientific discoveries.
“Whatcha writing?’
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“How secretive.”
Wednesday ignored her comment and continued writing. Enid stretched out, yawning widely, before reaching for her phone. She was halfway through checking her messages when she noticed something peculiar. Her favourite hair clip was missing.
She frowned and searched the blankets. Nothing. She checked beneath her pillow, then the floor beside her bed. Still nothing.
“Huh.”
Wednesday's typing stopped. Enid glanced toward her. “Have you seen my pink hair clip?”
“No,” Wednesday answered a bit too quickly.
Enid narrowed her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Because I could've sworn it was on my bed last night.”
Wednesday resumed her typing. “Your organizational skills are hardly my responsibility.”
Enid stared at her for a minute before smiling. It was a small, almost imperceptible smile, but it was enough to make Wednesday's fingers hesitate above the keys.
Enid had an idea, a rather wonderful idea. She stood, crossed the room, and leaned against the edge of Wednesday's desk.
“Hey, Wednesday?”
“What?”
“If you ever find it, you can keep it.”
The typing stopped completely. Wednesday looked up. For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. Enid smiled sweetly. She then turned and walked toward the bathroom, humming to herself.
Wednesday remained perfectly still. Her eyes followed Enid until the door closed behind her. She looked at the typewriter, then back to where she hid the wooden box. Then back at the door. Something about the exchange had left her deeply unsettled, a feeling she welcomed.
She couldn't quite place why this feeling had come to, but she had the distinct impression that Enid Sinclair knew something she wasn't supposed to know.
And, much to her irritation, Wednesday found herself rather eager to discover what all Enid knew.