It’s late. Painfully so (the clock looming above the door ominously flashes 6:09 pm, but she enjoys being overdramatic), when
Enid gets home from classes, her shoulders sagging and eye makeup mostly gone from the amount she rubbed her fists against them to keep herself alert during class. She’d decided this semester to take a few extra courses to get her GPA up, and fear god, she regretted it as her back protested each time she shifted, from her new habit of slouching.
But she felt wide awake, looking at the dorm decked to the nines with Christmas lights, holly, and a small tree near the Mosaic window and she felt the familiar sensation of butterflies, when she followed the familiar sound of a Cello onto the balcony. In minor, of course.
Wednesday sits in a sweater Enid had knitted her as a joke- in varying shades of blue and purple and it’s fuzzy and seems to swallow her entire lithe form into its colour. Enid feels that familiar blush of butterflies in her belly, when the deepest pools anthracite blink up at her.
“Oh, hello. You’re home.”
Enid feels giddy- and wants to dance around and sing from the rooftop, but the last time she’d done that Xavier had appeared from the opposing dorm with a bullhorn and a threatening hand atop his beanie, threats of turning her to stone blaring into the sky.
Wednesday hadn’t been at the school yet, thankfully, else she fears the Gorgon boy would have met the sharp tip of the goths beloved sword.
“Hi.” Enid manages around the smile she’s biting back from consuming her face. Wednesday leans her cello between her thighs. Blinks.
“How was class?”
Enid thinks she might burst into laughter because this roleplay is ridiculous- “You’re going to play coy when it looks like the toy store from Elf threw up in our room?”
Wednesday puts the bow of her cello onto the stand, where Thing has his nails painted green and red, tapping what sounded faintly like Jingle Bell Rock rhythmically.
“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”
Enid laughs now- heartily and whole because it feels like shes going to burst from the surge of Holiday cheer and Wednesday—
Wednesday makes her feel like shes been lit ablaze from the inside out and soothes with a cool balm all the same.
Wednesday’s lip twitches into a half smile. She stands, motioning without word for Enid to follow. She does, as always, like a dog at the foot of its owner.
“Wait on your bed and close your eyes.”
Enid obeys, fluttering her eyes shut and tapping her feet excitedly on the plush carpet by her bed. Her ears perk at the sound of the lock of Wednesday’s deck opening, her nose twitches at the sound of rummaging and her lips pull into a smile at the sound of crinkling wrapping paper.
“Hands out.” Voice soft, placing a box into her face up palms.
The wrapping paper is a mess- black, of course- but the lights reflect off of it and it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
She pulls the paper off, and handles the cardboard box like it’s the most precious thing, because to her it was. It was gifted by Wednesday, for Enid, and nothing could possibly be more special.
Well, second to the ring inside.
She pulls it from the little cut up pieces of (black) paper inside, tossing the box onto the space beside her and holding the (black) band with both hands, cradling it close to her.
It’s gorgeous. A spiderweb of tourmaline encompassing several smaller diamonds, all splintering up to where a garnet sits, gorgeously.
Enid blinks the tears from her eyes, looking up at the brunette who seems nervous for the first time in her life. “I-I can’t accept this, Willa…”
Wednesday deflates, that mask slipping on within a second and she’s quick to grab the box with rough hands, “Whatever. It was a stupid idea anyw-“
Enid reaches out, catches her wrist. Spins her back around. “No, I mean I can’t accept it because it’s too much. I don’t deserve it.”
Wednesday flushes, chin tucked to her chest in embarrassment. She sits down beside Enid so their thighs are flush, and blinks from the ring to Enid’s glassy eyes.
“You deserve far more than it. You deserve a life built to perfection. You deserve a mosoleum carved from my very bones as your eternal resting place, always protecting you. You deserve the fiercest love to be forged and this-“ she points to the ring, then to her chest. “This is forged from mine.”
Enid’s eyebrows furrow, a stray tear escaping. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Like, it means a lot to you, or-“
“Yes.” Sighing. “But it’s made from my blood. The blood of the first Addams and passed from generation to generation. At birth, we prick our nail upon the sharpest sword in our artillery- a sword made by the first Addams herself- and its spellbound into the gem.”
She reaches out, catching the next tear with the pad of her cool thumb. “I give you my blood. My body, my soul. Anything you ask, it is yours, Enid. If you should have me.”
Enid reaches up to cover the hand barely cupping her cheek, inhales shakily. “Of course, Willa. Always. I have always been yours. I will never go another day without telling you so.”
Wednesday smiles- full and devastatingly pretty, and it makes Enid’s soul ache to merge with hers. To melt and mold around her and with her. And she leans into the touch, turning her face to kiss the palm holding her like she was the single most important thing in the world.
“Put it on me?”
Wednesday nods eagerly, slipping from the plush bed to kneel. She takes the ring, Enid’s left hand, and slips it on. It’s loose- and suddenly it isn’t, in a spark of blue and black. It fits perfectly.
They fit perfectly.
Enid moves in quick, cupping Wednesdays cheeks as their hands overlap, the ring sitting snug beneath Wednesday’s fingers, where a black band is slowly manifesting itself. Their lips move. A tentative tongue licks at a full bottom lip, fanged teeth nipping experimentally in return.
Like Christmas and the Day of the Dead. Two completely different worlds, aesthetics, ways of life. But are beautiful, one in the same.
It snows later that night, as they bundle together in the black bed with twinkling colourful lights hanging overhead.
And for the first time in three years, when Enid slips outside in the middle of the night to sing, the world is calm.