Chapter Text
Wednesday wanted to carve open her chest and hurl her heart somewhere irretrievable, perhaps bury it six feet under just to be safe. For days now, she had been plagued by an ailment far worse than poison or plague: emotions she could neither catalogue nor exterminate. Normally, her feelings lingered comfortably between vexation and nonchalance.
But this?
This was an infection. A gnawing in her stomach that refused to leave. Some insipid poet might call it “butterflies.” If anyone dared suggest that to her face, Wednesday Addams would happily slit their throat and mount their wings on her wall as a warning.
And it only ever happened when she was near.
Enid Sinclair.
A blinding beacon of rainbows and glitter.
A werewolf who had the audacity to burrow into Wednesday’s shadows and illuminate corners that were meant to remain untouched.
It was unacceptable.
Unforgivable.
And yet – Enid was becoming someone she did not want to lose.
The thought made her stomach twist further. Eugene never inspired it. Xavier certainly did not. Bianca? Now little more than a wary acquaintance after Crackstone. Yoko? No. And Tyler – least of all him.
This was different. It was… worse. A puzzle designed to mock her.
“Wednesday?”
Her pen stilled. She lifted her gaze slowly, finding Xavier staring, concern creasing his brow.
“What?” she asked, her tone sharp enough to cleave the word in two.
“You spaced out. You never do that. Is something wrong?”
Confessing she’d been thinking about Enid Sinclair – her grin, her infuriating warmth, the nauseating comfort she radiated – was not an option. Not now. Not ever. Over her dead, bloodied body.
“Nothing. I was considering material for my next novel.”
Xavier’s suspicion lingered, but he nodded, turning back to the lecture.
Wednesday’s eyes drifted regardless. Inevitably. To her left – Enid, chatting away to Yoko, oblivious to the lesson. As if sensing her gaze, the werewolf turned, flashing a smile that could disarm armies. Bright. Carefree. Calamitous.
That smile sank claws into her ribcage, dragging at the thing in her chest she refused to name.
Perhaps she should order Thing to dig up records of similar cases. Or institutionalize her. Anything to explain why she was rotting from the inside out.
An Addams should not falter. Certainly not to something as revolting as fondness.
She wrenched her gaze back to the teacher. Tried to focus. Tried to breathe. And yet – some traitorous part of her hummed with exhilaration. If this was a puzzle, perhaps it was the only case worthy of her intellect.
She gripped her pen. And then – her body froze, head snapping back, vision tearing through her.
Flashes. A werewolf circling her, laughing. Another blur – being tackled, notes scattering, the breath ripped from her lungs.
“Wednesday!”
The classroom slammed back into place. Her pulse pounded, ragged.
She registered the scent first: cotton candy and vanilla, threaded with petrichor. Enid.
Arms steadied her, firm but careful, keeping her from toppling. “Are you okay?” Enid’s voice trembled with worry, yet held fast.
That gnawing in her stomach sharpened, slicing deeper.
Wednesday forced her face into stone. “I am fine. It was nothing.”
Enid didn’t buy it. Her eyes – infuriatingly bright, unbearably kind – pinned Wednesday in place. The world narrowed to them.
Wednesday scowled, voice low. “I’ll tell you later.”
It was the closest thing to a concession she could manage. And Enid, of course, smiled. Small, radiant. Enough to undo Wednesday’s carefully laid defenses.
They didn’t speak of it after class.
But Wednesday knew the infection was spreading.
And she hated – almost as much as she secretly savored – that she couldn’t stop it.