Chapter Text
In cinematography, the negative spaces are the empty areas surrounding the subject of a frame. It is absence given meaning, drawing attention not only to what is present but to what is missing.
I.
November, 2033. New York
Wednesday hates Thursdays, because it’s the day that she has set aside to check her email.
She still remembers when she was sixteen and could state with certainty that she was not a ‘slave to technology’.
Oh how she misses those days.
Life was simpler then, when she could still believe that the world would bend to her needs, that the universe would adapt to her and not the other way around. Or maybe she thought she could live removed from society.
Not even her parents could ever accomplish that.
Of course being an Addams is still in her DNA. No one understands why she’s on a first name basis with all the forensic pathologists in her area, or why she still writes her manuscripts with her typewriter. Her style in clothes and decor is still strictly monochromatic and her contempt and annoyance has extended beyond the usual causes to now add slow internet and fake online personalities.
She still gets visions from time to time.
A woman brushing past her at the cafe will turn into a flash of that lady’s parachute not opening on her vacation. A man at a book signing taking his pen back will become a vision of him at a hospital, crying over the loss of a loved one.
They’re always tragic. Always inevitable.
Such is the way of the Raven.
Sometimes she misses how her life was during her teenage years, fighting monsters, solving mysteries, saving the day with the help of—
No.
No good comes from feeling nostalgic.
Her life may be different now, but this is the path she chose; a career that would still let her explore the twisted mind of criminals through her writing and a job that would keep her away from most human interaction.
What she maybe didn’t anticipate is how successful she’d become in that path. At twenty-four, Wednesday has become a two times New York’s Best Seller author, she has a critically acclaimed film adaptation of her Viper series under her belt and is in the process of writing the third and final installment of the same series.
She has fans, annoyingly, and has been told repeatedly by her publicist that if she wants the books to keep selling, she can’t be rude to them. People know Wednesday Addams, not because of her infamy, or the crimes she committed, or the ones she solved. They know her because she’s good at what she does.
But ever since she became a famous author she’s had to yield to certain things that she swore she’d never let into her life. And one of them is technology.
The other, alarmingly, is people.
Now she has an agent called Marge, who handles the publishers and the contracts for her and who she fights with every other week, and a publicist, called Roger who negotiates the bare minimum number of interviews, and handles her book signings.
She also has an apartment she owns, a phone, a laptop, and a stupid Instagram account with one million followers.
It’s preposterous. She barely posts on there and she only has it to promote her books.
What has her life become?
”You’re spacing out,” Thing signs to her.
“I’m procrastinating opening my email and being faced with everyone’s ineptitude.”
”Maybe it’ll be good news.”
“I highly doubt they liked my answer after they asked me to tone down the gore for Viper’s third installment.”
”You shouldn’t antagonize the publishers.”
“They are uneducated, pusillanimous snobs.”
”You want this book published or not?”
“On my terms,” Wednesday hisses.
The next few hours drag.
About 4 coffees and a headache later, she shuts her laptop, having handled all her professional, adult business.
“I need to stab something,” she murmurs.
”Roger said no crime.”
“And you’re Roger’s right hand man now?”
”He brings me moisturizer.”
“You’re so easily bought, Thing. It’s pathetic.”
Thing just shrugs.
Wednesday’s phone rings. She sighs at the caller ID.
“Hello, Marge.”
“Wednesday! Oh, it’s so good I caught you. I was going to send you an email, cause I know today is your networking day, but I thought such good news would be better received on the phone.”
“What news?”
“This little indie studio called Marrow Productions wants to buy the rights to your novella ‘Echoes from the Pines’ to turn it into a film! And, listen to the best part, they are granting final say and full creative oversight of the adaptation to you.”
Wednesday grips the phone, her eyes wild and intense.
“Why was ‘Echoes from the Pines’ available?”
“Well, because it’s part of your body of work. And after the success of Viper de la Muerte’s first film, people want more!”
“Marge. Wasn’t I clear enough after the Viper catastrophe?”
“What catastrophe?” Marge drawls sarcastically. “The one that made you a millionaire?”
“If you think I care about the money, you don’t know me at all.”
“Oh god, you writers. Yes, yes, you’re very bohemian. Sadly, you still live in this society, and the world doesn’t really care about your suffering black heart, sweetie.”
Wednesday paces. “They can’t touch ‘Echoes’.”
“What’s the problem with it? It’s a perfect story for an independent horror studio like Marrow.”
Wednesday grinds her teeth. “It’s personal.”
“Oh, honey, all books are personal, don’t give me that. You wrote it, you published it, people consumed it. And now they want to see it on the big screen. You should be ecstatic! Very few writers get their books adapted, much less two of them!”
“I never intended for my work to be sullied by the greedy hands of capitalism or be twisted by clumsy interpretations for the big screen. It’s an abomination to watch my prose be cannibalized by masses of uneducated moviegoers who will inevitably mistake it for banal entertainment."
Marge is quiet for a few seconds.
“Right. Well. You have final say, but you should at least sit down with the director and have a chat, because I think you’d like him.”
“I don’t like anyone.”
“Fine, you’ll like his ideas! Just hear him out, dammit! I swear if you weren’t so freaking successful I would drop you so fast. You’re a nightmare, Addams.”
“Feeling’s entirely mutual, Marge.”
“I’m sending you the details of the meeting. You better be there!”
And she hangs up.
...
Wednesday meets Dante Salazar, the new up and coming Mexican director, in a cafeteria close to her apartment.
He talks a little about himself and about his life, about how important the horror genre became to him, and how he found his real self through the themes of ‘otherness’ and the disruption of societal norms.
He mentions his transition briefly to Wednesday who takes a second to understand what he means. She can’t help but respect a man who remade himself despite what society told him to be.
“But enough about me, I want to talk about ‘Echoes’.”
“What about it?”
“It’s obviously a love story.”
“It’s a thriller. With a cult and explicit violence.”
“Yeah, and at the center of it, there’s a love story.”
Wednesday keeps quiet. Not because she disagrees, but because he hit the nail on the head.
“Blair and Sabine were in love and life kept them apart. And now, with Sabine disappearing, Blair feels like she’s lost her completely, so she comes back trying to turn back time. But it’s too late. And the absolutely heart-wrenching part is that she finds out that Sabine loved her back.”
“So you would turn my thriller into a romcom.”
Dante laughs. “Fuck no! I love the cult, I love body horror and I love the tension. I just wanted to know more about them. Are you—is it inspired by something in your past?”
“Let me be clear, Salazar: ‘Echoes from the Pines’ is just a story. If you convince me, you’ll have my permission to direct the adaptation, not to dissect the author.”
Dante raises his hands in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Wednesday watches him, his dark hair and well groomed beard, his kind blue eyes that remind her of someone else.
“I suppose there is an emotional aspect to the protagonists,” she concedes.
“They’re the heart of the story.”
“My stories don’t have a heart. If there’s anything beating beneath the surface of the pages, it’s the malignancy I exorcised from myself.”
Dante looks at her in shock.
“Shit, they were not exaggerating about you.”
“Who?”
“You know, people in the industry. Your agent.” Dante scratches his beard amused. “You’re the real deal.”
“Never refer to me like that again.”
“Sorry. I mean, I respect you. You have a real passion for your work.” He shrugs. “So do I. And I fucking love your vision. I want you to help me bring it to life.”
Despite every wish and desire deep in her bones, Wednesday likes him.
She agrees to do the movie.
...
There is something to be said about the way the boxes we keep in our minds can be so easily pried open by a simple conversation. The memories that spill out can become a serrated edge and what was thought to be a successfully cauterized wound starts bleeding again as a name comes forth.
Enid.
In the last seven years after leaving Nevermore, Wednesday has perfected the art of compartmentalization. It’s not something she’s ever had to do before, because before Enid she simply didn’t care enough. Nothing fazed her, nothing affected her, and nothing and no one had the power to make her feel any type of way. Wednesday was an island, one of infested waters and roiling storms, haunted by her own demons, but alone.
And then there was Enid.
The first person to challenge Wednesday and the first to gain her genuine friendship. Enid became a fundamental disruption to Wednesday’s worldview. She started to tolerate things she’d never accepted before, she became softer around the edges just for her. Enid was the only one allowed to touch her, to learn about her vulnerabilities, to call her out on her bullshit.
She saved Wednesday. And Wednesday saved her back.
And as she walked through the Canadian wilderness to find her she could only think of one thing: not without Enid.
For a time, that thought had remained.
Even as they found her, it remained. Even as they brought her back to the Addams mansion and transformed her back, it remained.
And only when she held Enid’s feral face between her hands and talked her back into her human mind she understood: ‘not without Enid’ was forever.
Because Wednesday Addams couldn’t do life without Enid Sinclair.
Because Wednesday Addams was in love with her.
It was a shock to her system, one that she refused at first and kept buried deep after. And then the compartmentalization started.
The day they left Nevermore for good, Wednesday had made a choice. In that moment that still haunts her, she had decided to push it all down and never think of it again. She had put their friendship first. But of course, just like the undead, feelings don’t stay buried for long.
And even after three years without seeing each other face to face, Enid still persists in communicating with her and not letting their friendship die.
Some days, Wednesday avoids her phone altogether. Others, she treats the messages and the calls like scheduled maintenance checks to make sure her emotional barrier is still working.
Most days it isn’t.
At twenty-four, she has stopped fighting the fact that her love for Enid is not going anywhere, but she still keeps that secret inside of a box that she only unlocks when she’s sure no one is looking.
And now Dante Salazar of all people has made her open it.
Yes, ‘Echoes from the Pines’ is based on her past. Yes, it’s a love story. And yes, it’s too goddamn humiliating to explain to anyone that she dealt with the heartbreak of letting the person she was in love with go by writing a book, so she simply tells them: ‘it’s just a story’.
Wednesday cradles a steaming coffee in her hands as she sits on her couch. It’s past eleven in the evening, but she knows she’s not going to be able to sleep anyway.
She picks up her phone and opens Instagram. Her search history only has one person. She clicks on it, like a drug addict hitting the vein.
@EnidSinclair
Enid Sinclair 🐺🌕
607 123K 249
posts followers following
LA-based | Actor | Werewolf Advocate 🐾
Living life in full color and finding joy in the chaos. 🏳️🌈
👇 Support the pack
[Linktree/Website]
The last post is a Reel, a Get Ready With Me by the looks of it—and Wednesday hates that she knows any these words, but it’s all Enid’s fault.
The caption reads: Audition OOTD. Please tell me this screams 'lead role' and not ‘clueless influencer’
Wednesday clicks on it.
Enid’s voice fills the silence of her living room, creeping through the cracks of her armor and making a nest in her chest like it usually does. Wednesday watches the Reel embarrassingly more than once, trying to absorb every detail of the girl on her screen.
Enid hasn’t dimmed at all. Her bleached blonde hair, almost white from the LA sun, is longer than it used to, but she still keeps her pink and blue locks throughout it. She moves with that same irresistible, kinetic energy, nearly vibrating out of the frame as she laughs at herself when she spills her make up.
She’s dressed in clashing, joyful patterns, looking every bit the unapologetically colorful person she always was, just with the added confidence of adulthood.
Her face looks more angular, her smile more wolfish, her nails just as colorful, but longer, all except the middle and ring finger of her right hand, which she keeps short. Wednesday blushes when she remembers the video where she explained why.
“And remember: stay bright, stay colorful and don’t apologize for being different! Love you guys, bye! Mwah.”
Wednesday scrolls down to older posts: a carrousel of photos from a hiking trip with friends, a backlit picture of her at the beach wearing a hoodie, a BTS picture of a short film she was part of, a serious unfiltered video talking about new werewolf policy regarding Alphas, a carrousel of professionally taken pictures of her posing with some clothes for a brand, a blurry reel of a concert.
She reaches the one that always hurts. A high quality photo of Enid and her siren girlfriend at an influencer event. Anya Vetrova looks just as tall and modelesque as the last time Wednesday saw her in Enid’s pictures, her black hair falling down in waves and contrasting beautifully with Enid’s platinum blonde.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise when Enid came out as bisexual three years ago, not for Wednesday anyway, who hasn’t ever given sexuality much of a thought. She did it during the last and only time they’d seen each other face to face after Nevermore, when the whole gang had managed to get together in the city to celebrate Wednesday’s Viper book being turned into a movie.
Wednesday didn’t want any celebrations, had told them as much, reminding them that she hated the idea of her work being sullied like that. It didn’t matter that she had overlooked the whole process and the result was one of the most book-accurate films ever made; she was a stubborn little thing.
But at the mention of Enid coming all the way from LA for this occasion, she had acquiesced.
And what a shock to her system it had been to see her then, three years after that fateful day when they separated, the day that could’ve changed everything.
Something in Wednesday had broken and healed in the arms of her friend, in the tightest embrace she had ever received to date. Wednesday had watched her all night, even getting a few strange looks from Bianca, and at one point, around Enid’s third drink, the wolf had told them all that she had met a girl and she had realized she was bi.
Everyone had cheered and celebrated her and Wednesday realized how much it didn’t matter; she had the exact same possibilities to win Enid’s heart that she ever did, because Enid had found out she was attracted to women, and Wednesday hadn't even registered on her radar.
And that’s why after that meeting, she had refused to meet with Enid or any of their friends again. The only one she still meets at times is Bianca, who’s a first-year associate at a law firm in the city, and joins her once a month for a friendly fencing bout at the local gym, and that’s because the siren doesn’t ask her personal questions and is perfectly content to keep their friendship at a safe distance.
Wednesday keeps scrolling until she reaches one of her favorite recent pictures, one of Enid showing off the crooked, slightly lumpy cupcakes that she made for her YouTube channel. Her smile is blinding, one sharp fang biting the corner of her lip as her blue eyes look unreal in the sunlight.
”You’re yearning again,” Thing taps, jumping suddenly to her shoulder and to the back of the couch.
Wednesday likes the picture by mistake. She hisses and unlikes it.
“I don’t yearn. I’m simply conducting a periodic check. She’s still my pack, her safety is essential.”
”Then why don’t you call her?”
“It’s late.”
”It’s only nine in LA.”
“I don’t require a call to make my assessment,” she closes the app and locks the phone. “She’s fine.”
”You miss her everyday.”
“You’re projecting. You miss her every day.”
”I do. She’s my bestie.”
“You’ve always been too soft for her. It’s pathetic how you still hold onto that sentimental attachment."
”Now who’s projecting?”
Wednesday sighs through her nose. She taps her black nails on the phone and stays quiet for a few long seconds.
“She’s my best friend as well.”
”We both know that’s not all she is to you.”
“That’s all she gets to be.”
”You don’t know that. You’ve never tried—“
Wednesday grabs him and throws him onto the armchair. He shakes himself off.
Before either of them can continue the conversation, Wednesday’s phone starts vibrating. Enid’s face appears on her screen, a picture that she herself took and saved as her contact on her visit three years ago.
Wednesday hesitates before accepting the call.
“Wednesday?”
“Hello, Enid.”
“OMG hi! I wasn’t sure you were going to pick up, isn’t it like midnight there?”
“You know I’m a nocturnal creature.”
“That you are. I saw that you liked my cupcake post and I thought, she must be around her phone!”
“That was Thing,” Wednesday lies automatically. Thing slaps the cushion in indignation.
“Oh. So I guess you won’t be trying my recipe, huh?” Enid asks with a chuckle.
“I believe they would kill me.”
Enid’s laugh rings in her ear, soft and private, not for a camera or thousands of followers, but for her.
“So, how are you? How has your week been?” Enid asks.
“It’s been tedious. People like to get on my nerves.”
“Are you fighting with your agent again?”
“Always.”
Enid huffs a laugh. “How’s the book going?”
“Halfway there.”
There’s a sigh. Wednesday makes an effort.
“How was your week?” The seer asks.
“Horrible. My landlord won’t fix our AC, which is fine now but when summer comes around it’s gonna be a nightmare. Divina’s visiting, which I love, but it also means that her and Yoko keep having loud sex in the room next to mine. And my last audition was a total bust again. No one will give me a freaking chance, Wends, and I’m really good.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Enid sighs again, this time a little sad. “Gosh, I miss you so much. I can’t believe it’s been three years since I saw your face.”
“Enid, you insisted on a video call last month. You’ve seen my face.”
“You know what I mean, dummy! I feel like I wanna give you the biggest squeeze.”
Wednesday inhales sharply. She glances at Thing and rises to continue the call in the privacy of her room.
“I—you know I’m really busy.”
“I know, I know. Miss super successful, two times New York’s Best Seller author, I know you can’t drop your responsibilities and fly to the West Coast to visit little ol’ me.”
But I could, Wednesday thinks I would in a heartbeat if I knew it wouldn’t end up hurting.
“And I’m too broke to visit you,” Enid continues. “So phone calls it is…”
Wednesday sits on her bed, feeling her heart ache at the distance.
“You know you’re still my very best friend, right?” Enid is earnest in her affirmation, as she always is when she reminds Wednesday of this fact, which happens about once every couple months. “That’ll never change.”
Wednesday’s heart breaks, which also happens every time Enid reminds her that that’s all she’ll ever be. “I know.”
“And you’re still my pack.”
“I know.”
“And one day, when I have my big break, I’ll have enough money to come visit you every month—every week! I’ll be there every week to annoy you and get you out of the house and take you dancing. It’ll be so much fun!”
“No need to overdo the visits, we wouldn’t want them to lose their charm,” Wednesday says. She’s also lying through her teeth. Enid would never lose her charm and she’d gladly see her every day.
“Right, special occasion” she giggles. “Oh my god, that reminds me, did I tell you about this brand that sends me clothes?”
“I don’t think you did.”
“You won’t believe what they sent me.” She does a dramatic pause. “A snood!”
Wednesday reclines back in her bed, ready to listen to Enid chatter probably for the next twenty minutes.
...
II.
January 2034, Los Angeles
Her first alarm didn’t wake her, the neighbor stopped her on her way out, and now Enid’s GPS is telling her that she’s six minutes late for an audition she barely skimmed the night before.
Yoko was the one who forwarded her the email at the very last minute.
In the last month Enid’s been to about ten auditions of all kinds. She’s booked some minor roles that have helped her pay the bills—a mobile carrier commercial, an extra in a music video—but it’s gotten to the point where, between keeping up with auditions and updating her socials so the brands don’t drop her, she’s overworked and tired all the time.
So last night, she barely read: SUBJECT: Casting Call-Lead Roles for Upcoming Indie… and she went directly to the PDF of the sides.
She’s really not expecting anything from this one either, but an acting professor once told her: you’re talented, but that won’t matter at first. What will matter is that you’re stubborn and persistent. Enid’s pretty good at being that, so she goes to every single audition she can.
Enid sprints through the lobby, her chucks slapping a frantic rhythm against the hardwood, trying to mentally assemble a character out of the five pages of sides she’s shoved into her bag. She doesn’t even remember reading the casting director’s name, but she remembers it’s an indie horror film.
She shoves through the door to the waiting room, breathless and disheveled, only to realize she’s the last one there.
“Oh, hey,” a young man asks her. “Are you here to audition?”
“Yes, oh my god, I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic was insane and I didn’t hear my first alarm, and my neighbor is a crazy lady who corners me every day because she thinks I’m stealing her stupid mail and I’m having the worst day ever and—you don’t care about any of that. I’m so sorry. Do you think they’ll let me audition?”
“Well,” he chuckles. “Considering I’m the director and I have nowhere else to be...”
Enid feels herself blush. “Oh.”
“Can I have your headshot and resume?”
Enid pulls it out of the bag and hands it to him, still terribly embarrassed.
He reads briefly, then smiles at her amicably. “Alright, Enid. Give us a second and we’ll call you in, okay?”
Enid nods. She sits in the waiting room silently, picking at her chipped nail polish. She could be reading the sides again, or developing the character further in her mind, but the truth is Enid’s pretty good at winging that stuff. Her teachers said she had an instinct and a really good memory for dialogue. And she’s not supposed to be off script anyway.
So instead of preparing further, Enid wallows in the humiliation of telling the director of this project about her terrible day. They must think she’s so unprofessional. Another airhead influencer trying to make it into the industry.
The door opens and the young man peeks out again.
“Alright, Enid. We’re ready for you.”
Here goes nothing.
Enid enters the room projecting confidence, but something stops her in her tracks.
There’s a smell in the room, it’s familiar in a way that makes her stomach flip, but she can’t pinpoint why. She also knows it’s not a smell normal people would notice; this is her wolf talking and she is telling Enid there’s something important she’s missing.
But there’s no time for that because the occupants of the room are staring at her. There’s a table with three seats, the director in the middle, a woman with curly auburn hair to his right and an empty chair to his left.
“Hi,” Enid says.
“Hi, Enid. Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Dante Salazar and I’m the director of ‘Echoes’. This is Mara Reed, the casting director.”
Dante looks at the empty seat, then glances at the emergency door that must open to the back of the building.
“The… writer and EP was feeling indisposed, so she stepped out. It’ll be just us. But she will be reviewing your audition later on tape. Oh, by the way, we’ll be recording you,” he continues, pointing at a camera.
“Yes, that’s fine,” Enid says.
“Okay, let’s do Scene 12, the meeting with the Deputy. Mara will read Marcus Price.”
Enid nods, flipping to that page. She remembers how heartbreaking it felt, the main character finding out her friend is missing and discovering that no one in their creepy, close-minded town cared enough to look for her.
Enid has some experience to draw from.
So for the next 10 minutes she becomes Blair, desperate to find her friend and quietly furious that nobody else shares her urgency because the person missing never fit into their narrow view of the world.
...
Enid steps outside, feeling strangely good about her audition for once.
She realized as she embodied the character how much she could relate to her, and as they went over the scenes, playing her got easier and easier.
Once in her car, Enid looks at herself in the rearview mirror and smiles, a buzz of good vibes running through her body that makes her feel like she might actually have a shot this time.
She pulls out her phone.
Wends 🖤
Me: Hi!!!! Guess what??
Me: I just finished an audition and I think it went really well ✨✨✨✨🤭
Me: I know, I shouldn’t get my hopes up but idk!!! I got a good vibe from this one!
Me: How’s your morning going?☺️
She drops her phone and starts driving, knowing Wednesday usually takes a while to reply. But there are some texts waiting for her when she parks her car.
Wends🖤
Wednesday: I’m sure you did a good job.
Wednesday: My morning has been eventful. There was an unexpected turn of events and I had to recalibrate my plans.
Wednesday: I’ll be very busy the rest of the day and possibly tomorrow. I will talk to you then.
Me: thank you!💕💗💖
Me: oh I can’t wait to hear about your eventful morning 🫨🫨
Me: of course! Let me know when you’re free and maybe we can video chat? 😇
Enid locks her phone and goes inside.
...
Enid sets up her phone on the tripod and hits record.
“Hi besties! It’s Enid! Welcome back to my channel. You guys are not ready for today’s video! We’re doing a thrift haul! My friend Yoko and I went thrifting and we found the coolest things. But don’t worry we recorded everything, so here’s a montage of us freaking out at the thrift store.”
Hitting the stop button again, she prepares all the items of clothing and jewelry from their outing close by, so she can start recording the part where she actually talks about the pieces. She sits on the bed again where she’s recording, with all her pictures and posters as the background and hits record again.
“Wasn’t that so crazy? Okay, okay, okay, I know you peeped some really cool items but we’re gonna follow an order here and I’m leaving my favorites for the end and you can’t stop me ‘cause it’s my channel!” Enid grabs a necklace with pink beads and a crescent moon. “Okay, first of all, look at the color of these beads, are you kidding me? And the moon! Hello? Made for me. Okay, next—“
There’s a dull sound of something hitting Enid’s wall and she hesitates as she picks the next item. She prays it was too low for her phone to pick up and continues.
“Look at this sweater. The pattern is giving grandma’s couch, and I mean that in the best way possible. Do I need this sweater? Well, that is a problem for future—“
Another thump against her wall, much louder this time. Enid stops and waits. She sighs, takes a breath and paints on a smile again.
“Okay, what about this sweater, huh? The pattern is screaming—“
A loud moan cuts her off, followed by another thump and a series of high pitched moans. Enid stops the recording and puts her face in her hands.
“Oh my god…” she groans.
The obvious activities of the next room keep getting louder, so Enid grabs her wireless headphones and drowns them in K-Pop at the highest volume.
About thirty minutes later, Enid dares to take them off. The room seems to be quiet, but she hears voices in the kitchen. She marches off angrily, hearing their conversation as she approaches.
“Stop, or yours is gonna be all sugar,” Yoko warns with a chuckle.
“Then take it back! I’m not a wimp,” Divina says.
“You couldn’t hold yourself up!”
Yoko and Divina are both on the other side of the kitchen bar, talking. Yoko seems to be preparing two mugs of something while Divina teases her, pinching her side.
“Yeah, because I was doing all the work!”
“You wear the strap, you do the work, babe.”
Divina gasps. “That is not—!”
“Hey, guys?” Enid finally says.
“Oh, hey Enid,” Divina says. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“Yeah, I figured,” she replies a little angry.
“Is everything okay?” Yoko asks, noticing the tone and Enid’s deep frown.
“No, actually.” Enid huffs. “Look D, I love you, I’m so happy you have time to come visit your girlfriend, that’s—love that, so happy for you. But could you guys please keep it down when you have sex? Our walls are paper thin.”
Divina blushes while Yoko just looks amused.
“Shit, um, sorry,” Yoko says. “D’s just really loud.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Divina asks. “You’re loud!”
“Guys, I don’t—I don’t wanna know who’s… Jesus, just, please. I have to record stuff and I can’t if there’s noise in the house.”
“We’re really sorry, Enid. We’ll try to keep it down and we’ll check if you’re in your room next time.” Divina says, me then looks at Yoko pointedly.
“Yeah, yep, sorry about that.”
Enid rolls her eyes, the fight leaving her body.
“What are you making?” Enid asks, gesturing at the mugs.
“Caramel latte.”
“Make me one and I’ll forgive you.”
Yoko grins. “Done”
While Yoko prepares another drink, Divina cocks her head at Enid.
“Do you not bring people home?”
Enid blushes slightly. “I did, when I was dating Anya.”
“Right, you broke up.”
“We’re friends though. But I don’t, like—bring one-night stands or anything.”
“Maybe you should!”
“Oh, I don’t know… it’s not my thing.” Enid shrugs. “Besides, it’s hard dating girls! The apps suck, they all have issues, or exes they're not over, or ghost you…”
“What about guys?”
Enid scratches her eyebrow and pulls a face. “I’m not dating guys anymore. I think I’m just gay.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find the one.”
For some reason, something stirs in the back of Enid’s mind at those words. A memory. A nearly forgotten snapshot of an empty dorm room, packed bags, and the overwhelming feeling of something unsaid, of a missed opportunity. The thought vanishes as fast as it came and she frowns, shakes it off, not understanding why it even bubbled up to the surface.
“Yeah, maybe,” she says.
“So.” Yoko pushes the mug towards her. “Are you going to the Misfit launch party?”
“Yes! They invited me. It’s pretty cool, they’re gonna sell clothes for Outcasts, like super stretchy pants for werewolves, fire-resistant shirts for pyros… and it’s like, streetwear? But they have really colorful, cutesy stuff.”
“When is it?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Divina will be gone by then,” Yoko sighs, approaching her girlfriend to drop a kiss to her hair.
“So?” Enid asks suspiciously.
“So… Do you get to take a plus one?”
Enid’s eyes squint in a deadpan. “Yes.”
“Well, you can’t take Anya now so…”
Enid sighs. “Sure, you can be my plus one.”
“Let’s go!”
...
Wednesday doesn’t call Enid in the following days, but they do exchange some texts.
The truth is, Wednesday knows she’s fucked, she’s just delaying the inevitable at this point.
The moment Dante told her the movie would be filmed in Los Angeles and that she, with her new position as Executive Producer that she’s negotiated, absolutely needed to be there… she knew she was royally fucked.
Because even if Enid had nothing to do with the film, she can’t hide the fact that she’ll be in LA for probably close to a year. And if she ever found out that Wednesday was here and didn’t tell her, she’d never forgive her.
But of course fate has a way of turning a difficult situation into a terrible one, and of course Wednesday seems to be the butt of the joke. Maybe that’s what happens when you mock and reject the concept of fate while being a seer; destiny reaches out and slaps you in the face.
Because not only is she trapped in this sunny, fake hellhole for the next few months, and not only does she have to eventually inform Enid of this fact, which means they’ll see each other a lot, but on top of all that, Enid happens to be one of the main candidates they’re considering to play Blair, the main character in the film.
Wednesday is in shambles.
She hides it as well as she always does though, and Dante and Mara have no way of knowing the turmoil that lives inside her while they talk about casting and look through headshots in the AirBnB that Wednesday is renting.
“I don’t know, I keep coming back to her,” Mara says, replying to something Dante said. She points at Enid’s headshot.
“I know! She was just so natural, like she knew Blair,” Dante adds.
“But she was late and disheveled, has no previous experience in film and is working as an influencer.” Mara takes a drag of her cigarette, thoughtful. “Makes me a little hesitant; we need someone professional.”
“New faces are always a risk, but if it works she could be a force to be reckoned with.”
“What if it doesn’t though? Will you risk your film for a girl you don’t know?”
Wednesday has a choice to make here. Either she lets her issues get in the way just so she can protect herself, ruining Enid’s golden opportunity on the way, or she gets over herself and acts like a professional, giving Enid the flowers she deserves.
“I know her,” Wednesday finally adds.
Dante turns to her in surprise.
“What? You do?”
“Yes. She is… a good friend.”
“What the hell, Addams?” Mara asks. “Why didn’t you say?”
“I didn’t want to influence the casting process.”
“That’s why you stepped out?” Dante asks.
“Yes. I knew if she saw me, she’d get nervous.” Wednesday glances at the headshots again. They’ve narrowed the options to six. “But she’s a professional. She’s hardworking and smart, optimistic to the point of insanity. She’d be a great fit on the set.”
“Well, shit.” Mara takes another drag of her cigarette. “I think we have our Blair, then.”
“Will you be okay?” Dante asks, watching her closely, like he suspects something. Wednesday has gotten to know him enough to realize he’s a very insightful person; helpful if he uses that insight on others, unnerving if he uses it on her. “Working with a friend I mean.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Dante shrugs with a smile.
“Cool, then. I think we have our Blair.”
“We have our Blair,” Wednesday agrees.
...
Enid gets a FaceTime call from Wednesday.
“OMG, hi! I wasn’t expecting your call.” Enid sits up from her slumped position on the couch. Her hair is a little greasy and her fingers are orange from the Doritos she’s been eating. It’s one of those days. “If I knew you wanted to video chat I would’ve showered at least!”
Wednesday for her part, looks beautiful and put together. Her bangs are a little long, almost kissing her eyelashes, her braids tight and symmetrical, wearing only eyeliner because her flawless skin never needed anything else.
“No need, Enid.” Wednesday has to swallow down the compliments that want to escape her mouth; things like ‘you always look beautiful’ or ‘your face brightens my day either way’. Embarrassing things. “I need to tell you something face to face. Which is why I’m calling.”
“Oh,” Enid says, wiping her fingers on a tissue. “What’s up?”
“The producers of ‘Echoes’ have made their decision. They’d like to offer you the part of Blair.”
Enid’s mouth falls open, her thoughts scrambling in her mind.
“What?”
“You got the part.”
“What?”
“Also, open your door.”
There’s a knock on her front door and Enid experiences a moment of mental whiplash. She rises, her phone still in her hand to be able to see Wednesday’s face. But when she opens the door, there’s another Wednesday standing on her porch.
Short as she remembers her, wearing a black turtleneck and slacks, a satchel on one shoulder and heeled boots. A detached hand stands on the ground next to her, waving hello.
Wednesday disconnects the call.
“What?” Enid asks for the third time, feeling a little faint.
“Congratulations.”
“Am I dreaming?” Enid asks. She looks back at the couch, expecting to find her body napping and to somehow be astral projecting into her ideal alternate universe.
“I assure you, this is real.”
“Wait, holy shit,” Enid breathes, her eyes widening.
“Yes, you earned it. The role is yours.”
“What? No! Shut up! You’re here!” Enid launches herself at Wednesday, who loses her footing slightly, catching Enid in her arms. “Oh my god, since when? How long?”
Wednesday can’t help but melt a little in her arms, her body betraying her.
“I’ve been in LA for less than a week, but I’ll be here for a while.”
Enid pulls back, but only so far that she can see her face. Her hands cradle the sides of Wednesday’s neck in such an intimate gesture that Wednesday struggles to control the stutter of her heart.
Enid stares at her face like she’s absorbing every freckle and every curve.
“Gosh, you’re here. I can’t believe it. I missed you so much.”
Wednesday swallows thickly, overwhelmed by this level of attention from Enid.
“I was regrettably affected by your absence as well.”
The way Enid brushes her thumbs over the sides of her neck and the way her eyes dart all over her face to stop on her lips, makes Wednesday pull back slightly to have some air.
Enid’s hands fall to her forearms, where she grips tightly, an excited grin on her face.
“I have so much to show you! We have to go to this museum of bizarre stuff, you’ll totally love it.”
“Enid. We won’t have a lot of time to sightsee. We have to film a movie.”
“Wait,” Enid shakes her head. “Hold on. Pause. What? How do you know about the role of Blair?”
“I am the writer. Well, one of the Executive Producers now.”
“Wait, how?” Enid lets go of her arms.
“‘Echoes from the Pines’ is one of my least known novels. They’re adapting it into a film and I’m part of the team.”
“What?”
“We made the decision to cast you last night. I wanted to tell you in person so I looked up your address that you texted me a while ago.”
“What?”
“Do you have a quota of ‘whats’ you have to meet today?” Wednesday deadpans.
“Rude. And what do you mean you’re part of the team? Wednesday you—wait, were you the one that stepped out of the audition cause she felt ‘indisposed’?!”
“I didn’t want to make you nervous,” Wednesday explains again. Only partly true, because she was mostly hiding.
“You… you’ve been in LA and you didn’t tell me?” Enid crosses her arms, her lips pursing in a frown.
“I was going to anyway. I simply didn’t want to influence the casting process.” Again, mostly true. She would’ve told Enid eventually.
Enid maintains her upset, haughty demeanor up for a few more seconds before it dissolves into a smile.
“Okay, fine whatever, but—OMG, I got the part? And we’re going to be working together?”
“Yes, that seems to be the way fate has arranged things.”
Enid squeals, finally letting her go to bend down and cradle Thing against her chest.
“Hi buddy! You look so moisturized!”
”Wednesday’s publicist buys me a very expensive cream.”
“Ooh, how fancy.”
Wednesday is pulled by the hand into Enid’s place.
“This is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait!”
Wednesday lets herself be dragged, her heart full from finally being close to her friend, but also aching from the impossible desire for something beyond friendship.
...
III.
March 2034, Los Angeles
Everyone in the team starts arriving in waves for the table read. Enid is there bright and early, her full script in hand, filled with annotations and highlighted dialogue.
Wednesday arrives next with Camila Reyes, the actress who’ll play Sabine. Enid watches them side by side and marvels, not for the first time, at the fact that Wednesday cast an actress who looks so much like her.
“Hey guys!” Enid waves.
“Enid,” Wednesday greets.
“Thing didn’t come?”
“He stayed at the AirBnB.”
“Ah.”
“Hey, you! You ready for this thing?” Camila asks.
Enid has met her enough times to have established an amicable rapport. They did their chemistry read together, had a chat about their characters over coffee and did a photoshoot for the studio a few days ago. Camila’s nice. She has a lot more experience than Enid on film sets and has been giving her great advice. Enid likes her a lot.
“I’m so ready,” Enid says with a grin.
Her excitement turns into nerves as more and more people arrive. There are name placards on the table and Enid finds she doesn’t know the half of the people in the room. She meets the screenwriters that work alongside Wednesday, the producers, the other executive producer. But she also sees some people she already knows, like Dante and Mara and a couple of the other actors.
“Fuck, this is like, really happening,” she whispers to Wednesday who’s sitting next to her.
“Did you expect it not to?”
“No, I mean. It’s like, the real deal.”
“Enid, you signed a contract. You’ve had wardrobe fittings.”
“I know!” She exclaims in a whisper. “But there’s like, a lot of people working on this.”
“Yes. Movies take a lot of work.”
“Were you part of the making of ‘Viper de la Muerte’?”
“Only the screenwriting process.”
“Why did you choose to be EP for this one?”
Wednesday locks eyes with her. “This one is special.”
“More than Viper?” Enid says incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Wow.” Enid nudges her chair closer to Wednesday’s. “Well, in any case, I’m glad you did. I’m not sure how I would’ve done this without you.”
Enid takes Wednesday’s hand under the table, squeezing it in gratitude. The gesture sends electric shocks up Wednesday’s arm and she clears her throat and uses every ounce of self restraint not to pull back.
“I’m certain you would’ve been fine on your own.”
Enid intertwines their fingers together. “Maybe. But now I don’t want to be.”
“Okay, everyone!” Dante says, clapping his hands. “Thank you all for being here. I think we’re all really excited to start this journey. So how about the actors please introduce yourselves and tell us who you’re playing and we’ll hear this out loud. Yeah?”
Everybody claps and cheers. Enid reads every one of her lines without letting go of Wednesday’s hand.
...
Stepping out of the building, Enid feels a bit like a different person, a real actress with a real job and a ton of responsibility on her hands to tell this story right.
“That was really cute, wasn’t it?” Camila asks cheekily. “I can’t wait to be a witchy lesbian.”
“Pansexual,” Wednesday corrects. “Sabine is pansexual, Blair is a lesbian.”
“Oh, shit, even better.” She turns to Enid. “I’m so glad I like you, girl. I had to be the romantic interest of this egotistical actor once, ugh. Good thing I’m talented."
Enid laughs. “Yeah, it’ll be really fun to play a lesbian for me too, since, you know, I am one.”
“Hell yeah! As an ally, I’m all for representation.”Camila looks at her phone then. “Oh, that’s my Uber. Sinclair, I’ll see you for rehearsals, yes?”
“Yes, I’ll see you here on Monday!”
“Good seeing you, Addams!”
Wednesday nods.
“She’s fun. It’s amazing how she transforms into gloomy, brooding Sabine,” Enid says.
“Since when are you a lesbian?” Wednesday asks suddenly, like she was holding in the question.
“Oh. Um. Since Anya, I guess?”
They start walking towards the parking lot.
“I see,” Wednesday says, biting the inside of her cheek. “She’s had a strong influence on you.”
“Um… more like I realized while being with her that I didn’t want to date men ever again.” Enid gestures with her hands as she talks. “Didn’t have anything to do with her, just happened while I was dating her.”
Wednesday braces herself for the next question. “And how is that going?”
“What’s going?”
“You and Anya.”
“Oh!” Enid frowns. “We broke up. Didn’t I tell you?”
Wednesday feels a traitorous tingle in her stomach. “You did not.”
“Wow, could’ve sworn I did! But yeah, we broke up, but it was amicable.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you break up?” Wednesday asks just as they reach Enid’s car.
Enid bites her lip, changing her weight from one foot to the other nervously. “I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. Like, I know there’s someone out there for me that’ll feel right! It just wasn’t her. And she never said her reason, so I guess same.”
Wednesday takes a deep breath to drown the thousand words, declarations and pleas that live in her lungs.
“I’m sorry to hear,” she lies.
“It’s okay,” Enid shrugs. She presses the script to her chest. “I’m focusing on my career at the moment.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, I… wanted to thank you again for giving me this amazing opportunity, Wends.”
“You were the best. You earned it. There was no favoritism.”
Enid pouts. “And here I was thinking I was your favorite.”
Wednesday feels her bloodstream betraying her as a faint blush covers her cheekbones.
“Your status as my favorite is unrelated to your merits.”
Enid gasps. “So you admit it!”
“Enid,” Wednesday says, suddenly sounding very tired. “You’ve known this for years.”
Now it’s Enid’s turn to blush. She shrugs sheepishly.
“It’s just nice to hear.” She says quietly. She changes topics, feeling a strange tension in the air. “So, when will I see you again?”
“I will be here on Monday for rehearsals as well.”
“Really?”
“I want to be part of the process as much as I can, especially with the characters.”
“Yay! Super cool. I’ll see you on Monday then.”
Enid takes her keys out and opens her car door.
“I will see you then.”
...
Many rehearsals, costume, hair and makeup tests where they got rid of the color in her hair, camera tests, and blocking rehearsals at the locations later, Enid gets the final script revision with minor changes and adjustments.
The weekend before they start filming finds both Wednesday and Enid sitting on Enid’s couch reading through the new script and learning her new lines. Thing has wandered off into the apartment, surely with the intention to steal something meaningless, like a hair clip or a bottle of nail polish.
“So, okay. Here Blair says something that I don’t understand. On page seventy-six, she tells Deputy Price ‘I think maybe I haven’t just been missing her, I’ve been grieving the chance neither of us took’. What does that mean?”
Wednesday thumbs the pages of the script while she looks at Enid, not needing to read that part to know exactly what Enid is referring to. It’s a line taken directly from her novel. Could be argued it’s taken directly from her life.
“It refers to a moment in their lives. The flashback on page seventy-nine.”
Enid looks for it.
“That scene describes an instant, right before Blair left town, where either of them could’ve confessed their feelings and the trajectory of their lives would’ve changed completely.” Wednesday explains while Enid reads over it. “We suspect Sabine has feelings for her from the cassette tapes and it will be later confirmed with the journal found at the ritual chamber. But Blair’s feelings are more subtle, they must be read between the lines.”
“Why didn’t you write a happy ending?”
Wednesday is taken aback by the question. “What do you mean? Blair exposes the cult, finds what happened to Sabine and makes the town of Oakhaven a safer place.”
“Sabine is dead by the time Blair finds her, Wednesday. They didn’t even get to kiss once.”
“It’s a horror story, Enid.” Wednesday frowns. “Bad things happen.”
“I know but… why did you have to kill her? Why couldn’t Blair arrive just in time?” Enid asks, seemingly upset.
“Things are rarely so convenient.”
“But it’s fiction! You could’ve written in some hope!”
“Do you know me at all?”
“I just think the story would hit harder if they got their happy ending.”
“The book is already written and published, Enid” Wednesday defends.
“Yeah, but maybe we could change it for the film!” Enid says excitedly. “It wouldn’t even be that big of a change, really, just a couple scenes at the very end.”
Wednesday grinds her teeth silently.
“They get to the chamber in time, Deputy Price shoots the ritualists, Blair unties Sabine and finds her journal. While Sabine is unconscious she reads the confessions of love in the pages and when Sabine wakes up she tells her she’s not alone in her feelings, she never was, and she loves her too!”
“We can’t have that ending,” Wednesday grits between her teeth.
“Why not?!”
“Because that will never happen!” Wednesday snaps. Enid freezes. “You don’t spend years in love with someone and then suddenly find out they—” She stops, lowering her voice. “The characters don’t. They don’t get to have that. It’s simply not realistic.”
Enid feels a little chastised after that. She slumps back into the couch, her gaze fixed to her lap.
“Oh,” She breathes. “Okay. Yeah, it was just an idea.”
Wednesday sees the way Enid makes herself smaller and feels a twinge of guilt in her chest. She rests her shoulder on the backrest next to Enid, trying to catch her eye.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but like I said, this is a very special project to me.”
“Is it… based on something?” Enid asks tentatively.
“Only my goriest nightmares.”
“I meant the… romantic part.”
“It’s not a romance, Enid. It’s a tragedy.”
Enid turns her face to lock eyes with her. Wednesday gets lost for a moment in the blue of Enid’s eyes.
“Right. So, not based on anything.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s like you’re dodging the question.”
Wednesday sighs. “Every writer steals from somewhere.”
“That’s not an answer,” Enid says, her voice coming out in a rasp.
“It’s the one you’re getting.” Wednesday’s own voice gets a little lower too.
Enid notices Wednesday doing a thing she read about in an article, something called the triangle gaze. Looking at one eye, then the other, then her mouth. Confusingly, it makes Enid’s stomach flip. She read it’s a flirting body-language thing, so Enid reasons Wednesday’s not actually doing that and is probably just sizing her up. Her body’s response to it is simply ignored for the time being.
“And if I figure it out?” Enid taunts.
“I doubt you will.”
“Aha! So there’s something hidden.” Enid’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.
“There are always many things buried between the lines of any good writer.”
Wednesday looks at her lips again and Enid nudges a little closer with a smirk. “You always try to be so enigmatic.”
“I don’t have to try.”
Enid giggles and puts a hand on Wednesday's forearm. For anyone looking from the outside, it would look a lot like flirting.
“Wow, humble too.”
Wednesday can’t stop her smirk. “Never.”
Enid rubs the inside of Wednesday’s forearm with her thumb, her head resting on the backrest of the couch and her eyes tracing a path over Wednesday's freckles, around to her dimple and finally to her smirk.
“God, you’re impossible,” Enid whispers.
There’s a tension in the air that she can’t explain, a fluttering anticipation that she doesn’t understand. Enid feels herself get pulled into this magnetic field, watches Wednesday get closer too.
The sound of the front door unlocking snaps her out of whatever weird moment they were having. Enid takes a sharp breath, sitting up abruptly, while Wednesday scoots a couple inches away, clearing her throat.
“Hey, Addams!” Yoko says walking into the room. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. I got Enid the Double Roast Beef from Red Run and a large O-Neg with extra iron for me. I would’ve gotten you something, dude.”
“No need. I should be leaving anyway. I have an early morning with Dante and the producers.”
Wednesday gets up from the couch, grabbing her satchel.
“Thing!” She calls.
The hand scurries on the floor to her, a red scrunchy on his stump.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Yoko says, right before he steps out the door in a hurry.
Wednesday looks at her with a deadpan expression. “Possession is a flexible concept.”
She walks to the door too, followed by Enid.
“So, we start filming next week,” Enid says.
“Indeed. I’ll see you on set.”
“Yeah. Have a good night, Wednesday.”
“You too Enid.”
...
IV.
May, 2034, Los Angeles
Early evening shoots are usually the best for Enid. They don’t tend to stretch into late hours of the night or force her to be up at the crack of dawn.
Today is supposed to be the last day of shooting, excluding the pickups and reshoots that they might call for next week. The process of filming a movie has been the coolest experience of Enid’s life.
Dante’s an amazing director, so kind and so patient, always explaining what he needs to his crew in a direct but amicable tone. Camila is a hoot and a half, she’s always making Enid crack when the cameras aren’t rolling, but when she’s in character, she becomes this gloomy, morose witch that the town of Oakhaven hates.
The whole crew has been so friendly and welcoming, even the camera man who, on her first day, congratulated her on her first big role is now her coffee break buddy, who talks about his wife and his kids constantly.
And Wednesday. She’s been a lifesaver. Whenever Enid feels overwhelmed or lost in the beat of the narrative or insecure about her character’s headspace, Wednesday is there, with her emotionless words and deadpan expression telling her how to follow the character’s feelings, telling her she knows Blair, that she’s got it.
The seer hasn’t missed a single shooting day that Enid has been a part of. She doesn’t know if she’s on set the days when Enid is not, but Enid appreciates it immensely.
Today, they’re shooting the flashback. Filming scenes out of the chronological order of the story is something that Enid is still getting used to, but at least this one is a flashback from years ago, so it’s easy to get into that mindset.
This scene is something that happened and cannot be changed. This is the moment they’ll remember their whole lives.
“You know your lines,” Wednesday assures.
“Yeah, always.”
“Then why are you nervous?”
“I’m not. Nervous. I’m cool. Cool as a cucumber.”
Wednesday looks at her, deadpan.
“Okay, I’m a little nervous.”
“You’ve worked on set for two months. You’ve been exceptional. Everybody says so.”
“Aw, really?” Enid’s expression changes into one of adoration. “That’s so sweet! Who said that?”
“Enid. That’s not the point. Why would you be nervous now?”
“It’s just an important scene, you know? You said so. And there’s just something about it…”
“What?” Wednesday asks, alarms ringing in her mind.
“I don’t know. It just hits a nerve for some reason.”
“In what way?”
“Like… it feels familiar.”
Wednesday clenches her jaw.
“How so?”
“Like when… it feels like the time we—“
“Okay, people, places please!” The assistant director calls. “Let’s go to first positions.”
Wednesday immediately moves out of the set and behind the monitors, where she always watches what the camera sees.
Camila moves to her position, dressed in all black clothes with a witchy vibe. Enid stands on her X on the floor, dressed in loose jeans and a colorful t-shirt.
“I’m gonna turn on the yearning to the max, just so you know,” Camila says, still not in character.
“What do you mean?”
“These two are like stupidly in love and neither will say it out loud. At least we can show it with our acting, you know?”
“Right,” Enid agrees, regaining some of her footing. “That’s part of what makes this scene so hard for me. They totally should’ve kissed right?”
“Oh, one hundred percent.”
“So silly that they didn’t.”
“But, we sell it with our eyes,” Camila says. “The yearning Sinclair, I’m telling you. Give them that and we’ll be out of here before Supernaturally Single is over.”
“You watch that trash?”
“Girl, don’t even. That show should win an Emmy.”
“Quiet on set!” The assistant director calls. “Roll sound!”
Enid watches Camila transform into Sabine, and for a split moment she wonders if she’s straight up copying Wednesday.
“Roll camera!”
“Camera speed.”
“Scene 42, take 1.”
Enid enters the mindset of Blair, a girl who wants so much from the world and can’t quite grasp it from her small town. A girl who doesn’t realize she’s in love with her best and is about to leave her behind. A girl who will look back to this moment and regret not asking her to come with.
“Action!” Dante calls.
...
It’s not that late when they leave the set, but it’s late enough that Enid’s sleepy and exhausted and Supernaturally Single is long over. But at the end of the day, Wednesday and Dante seemed happy with the results and that’s all she cares about.
Wednesday walks her to her car and eyes her a little worriedly.
“You shouldn’t drive like this.”
“I’m—fine,” Enid says, cutting herself off with a yawn.
“You are decidedly not.” Wednesday holds her hands out. “Give me your keys. I will drive you home.”
“And how will you get home then?”
“I’ll call an Uber.”
Enid hums in indecision.
“Keys, Enid.”
“Hey, we’re after hours, you’re not my boss now.”
“No, but I’m your best friend, and I’m not letting you drive like this.”
Enid smiles goofily at that, handing Wednesday the keys.
On the way to Enid’s house, the rumble of the car, the darkness of the night and the passing amber lights of the 101 put Enid to sleep immediately.
Thing jumps on the dashboard and signs to Wednesday.
”That moment seemed to matter a lot to her too.”
“She barely remembers it,” Wednesday whispers, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty.
”I think deep down she knows what this story is about.”
“Well, if she does, she’s been gracious enough not to mention it.”
”Gracious?”
“Spares me the humiliation of being rejected.”
”You always say that, but you literally don’t know. You never tried.”
“Do you think you’d survive seventy miles an hour if I threw you out the window?”
If a hand could sigh, Thing would.
”You’ll miss another opportunity because of fear. Again.”
“Not fear.” Wednesday glances at Enid, curled against the door, growling softly in her sleep. Wednesday’s heart clenches. “Self preservation.”
As Wednesday parks on her street, Enid starts to wake up.
“We here?” She asks groggily.
“Yes. I will walk you to your door.”
Wednesday gives Enid her keys back, who stumbles a little sleepily towards her door. Wednesday follows her close, ready to catch her if she falls.
“Did you call your Uber?”
“I just did. It should be here in 10 minutes.”
“I’ll wait with you,” Enid says, opening her front door and leaning against it.
“That’s not necessary.”
“You drove me home, silly. It’s the least I can do.”
They are quiet for a moment, the chilly night air making goosebumps appear on Enid’s arms.
“It was so cool to shoot this movie with you, Wends.” Enid says suddenly. “A dream come true.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“You’ll leave now? Go back to New York.”
“Not at all. Now comes post-production. Dante also wants me to be a part of the promotional tour. I told him that'd be counterproductive, but he insists I have a certain charm.”
Enid smiles coyly. “You do have a certain charm.”
Wednesday takes a sharp breath through her nose.
“After that I plan to stay and do my part until the premiere, which means I’ll be here for about four to five more months.”
Enid sways forward a bit. “Yay. Love that for me.”
“Enid—“
Whatever her thought was it’s cut off by Enid wrapping her arms around her and leaning her head on her shoulder, face pressed to her neck. She sags against her, Wednesday having to hold most of Enid’s weight with her modest strength.
“What—?”
“You always smell so good.” Enid starts sniffing her neck, her nose and lips tickling her. “I’m so sleepy.”
For the next eight minutes and some seconds, Wednesday holds Enid against the doorframe of her front door while the wolf dozes off on her shoulder, occasionally taking big sniffs from her neck or her collarbone.
Wednesday can barely maintain her composure, her traitorous heart drumming a beat that could easily give her away if Enid was more conscious. She can’t help but nuzzle her too, her arms tightening around her waist and her eyes closing for a moment of bliss.
Her phone vibrates, alerting her the Uber has arrived.
“Enid,” she calls.
The wolf pulls back back, taking all the warmth in Wednesday’s life with her. Enid’s eyes barely open and she sways on her feet. “You leavin’?”
“Yes,” Wednesday says softly. “I will call you soon.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.”
“Okay, have a good night, Wednesday.”
And then she leans forward and gives her a kiss on the cheek.
The vision enters her unannounced, as they always do.
There’s flashes of cameras everywhere that won’t let Wednesday see where she is. But at the center of the lights there’s a couple.
Enid and Anya talk, the model’s arms wrapped around Enid’s waist. They’re both wearing dresses, a blue piece on Enid that Wednesday has never seen before.
The moment seems intimate, Anya dips her head toward Enid’s cheek in a gesture that, from where Wednesday’s standing, looks very much like a kiss.
Another flash of a camera blinds Wednesday and she looks down to see a plane ticket in her hands, a one way trip to New York.
It starts raining around her, the ink on the ticket blurring, until no text remains.
The vision fades. After many years of practice and controlling her powers, Enid doesn’t notice that she just had a vision. The wolf simply smiles tiredly but sweetly and closes the door.
Wednesday walks to the Uber, understanding that her fate is sealed, that nothing can change her destiny to end up alone. Thing jumps into the Uber first, signing to her quickly.
”Was that a vision?”
Wednesday doesn’t respond. It’s going to be a tortuous few months.
...
INTERMISSION
June, 2026. Nevermore Academy
Enid and Wednesday’s dorm in Ophelia Hall has never felt this empty.
The beds are bare, the decorations hidden away, their belongings packed. The only thing that remains of them is a very special window, half in color and half without.
And in the empty space, a strange kind of tension.
Enid sits on her bed staring at the back of Wednesday’s head as she packs her typewriter.
What a crazy last year this has been.
Last summer, Wednesday came to find her in the Canadian wilderness and brought her back to her house to perform a ritual to transform her back. Soon after that they found out that Nevermore had almost closed its doors, being rescued at the last moment by the efforts of the faculty and a new Principal.
During the school year, Ophelia tried to kill Wednesday several times because of a vision that no one knew how to interpret. And no more than two weeks ago, Wednesday had ended up solving the prophecy, saving both herself and her aunt in the end.
And Enid… well, during this time she’d discovered things about herself that she’s still trying to understand to this day.
Through the ups and downs of the year, the roommates of Ophelia Hall grew closer than ever before and Enid realized just how essential she had become to Wednesday, and vice versa.
And now, after everything, after saving each other’s life, after hugs that healed their souls, and after promises that meant the world… now here they are. Moving in different directions.
Because Enid’s going back to California to pursue an acting career while Wednesday’s going to New York to become a successful novelist.
How is Enid supposed to just accept this? Three years coexisting with her best friend, taking her presence for granted, ditching her, even, for some dumb boys, wasting time fighting with her, being annoyed at her, misunderstanding her.
And now.
“Wednesday.”
The girl turns to Enid. She’s in the clothes she will travel back home, a knee-length, tailored black dress with a white collar. Her leather bag is hanging from the chair. There’s nothing left to pack.
Enid stands and walks to the center of the room. Her hands twist against her stomach. Wednesday eyes her confused and walks to the invisible line as well.
“What is it, Enid?”
“It’s really happening.” Wednesday notices that Enid’s eyes start watering. “We’re leaving Nevermore forever.”
“You shouldn’t feel nostalgic, Enid. It’s just a building. It won’t miss you back.”
“It’s not the Academy I’ll miss, dummy.” Enid’s lip quivers. She looks down at her sneakers. “Wednesday how—“
Her voice breaks, a sob escaping her. She covers her mouth, surprised—shocked, really—at how much she has bottled up.
A couple tears roll freely down her cheeks. There’s so many emotions that want to come out, all at the same time. She feels frozen. She feels like time’s accelerating around her. She feels like she’s going to miss her train and she doesn’t even know where the station is.
A hand brushes her jaw, Wednesday’s fingers wiping a tear, then another on the opposite cheek.
“Don’t cry,” she says. Her voice is laced with the same softness she’s heard her use this past year, ever since Canada. A softness only reserved for Enid.
Enid takes a shaky breath. “But how am I supposed to—I don’t know how to do this without you.”
“You won’t have to. I have no intention of letting you navigate this next part alone. You are my pack, and I have never been one to leave my territory undefended.”
Enid lets out a sob. Of relief, of sadness.
“We’ll be so far away, Wednesday. We won’t live together, I won’t see your face every day, or hear about whatever trouble you’re wrapped in… I won’t be there to save you!”
“Enid—“
“No! You’ll make new friends, you’ll replace me, you’ll forget about me—“
“Never,” Wednesday says firmly, final. “Enid, never. That’ll never happen.”
“But you don’t know that…”
“I know myself very well, Enid. I told you the mark you’d left on me was indelible. Believe me when I say that that statement has only grown more undeniable.”
“I’ll miss you so much, Wednesday,” Enid says quietly.
Wednesday watches her, shoulders hunched, eyes red from crying, hands twisting in her sleeves. She knows what Enid needs right now; after three years, Wednesday has learnt when her best friend needs to be held.
And a couple years ago Wednesday wouldn’t have entertained the idea, wouldn’t have even noticed that’s what Enid needed; but today? Today she can feel the pull to wrap her arms around her as if Enid had her own gravity.
Like she’s the sun and Wednesday’s merely the moon.
And she would do it. She’s grown used to physical contact with her and only her, enough to handle arm squeezes and hand holds and hugs.
But there is a small problem.
And it’s that Wednesday’s in love with her.
It only took nearly losing her in the woods of Canada, watching her later, transforming back into a young, feral woman, so beautiful and scared, and then being the one she recognized and trusted to help her become herself again, for it to finally hit her. It took only those few weeks to realize what she should have known all along.
Wednesday Addams is in love with Enid Sinclair.
And now, hugs have a different meaning for her. Enid’s words weigh tons. Wednesday’s secret follows her wherever she goes.
“Won’t you miss me?” Enid whimpers at her silence.
Wednesday is tempted to say: yes, I’ll be miserable. But that’s not what either of them need right now.
“I suspect your absence will be inconvenient.”
Enid pouts, nods. Another tear falls down her cheek.
Despite what many people think and what she wants them to believe, Wednesday’s not made of stone.
Wordlessly, she pushes up on her tip toes and pulls Enid into a hug. She hooks her chin over her shoulder and shuts her eyes hard, pushing the feelings down. Enid hugs her back desperately, her hands clawing at her, like she wants to stop her from leaving.
Wednesday feels her secret bubbling up, a heat in her stomach that threatens to consume her completely.
This is why she avoids touching Enid these days.
Enid pulls back to look at her. Her sad blue eyes move all over her face, her nose almost brushing Wednesday’s.
“Wednesday…”
Enid’s breath fans over her cheeks when she speaks. Wednesday can only stare back with the same intensity.
“Do you…?” Enid starts. Wednesday’s eyes snap to her mouth, watching her soft, lipgloss pink lips form the words. “Did you ever…?”
“What?” Wednesday’s voice is quiet, barely there.
Enid’s brow furrows, like she’s about to solve a puzzle. She still holds Wednesday close, not ready to let go of her yet.
Wednesday’s little black heart drums in her chest. This moment feels monumental, like maybe the rest of their lives really depends on a word, an action, a choice to be taken—now or never.
If she was a different person. If she hadn’t seen Enid get lost in all these boys day in and day out. If Wednesday didn’t care about preserving their friendship as much as she does.
She would lean in and kiss her.
She would steal the breath from her lungs and not let her utter another word.
She would beg her to come with her. Wednesday Addams would beg.
But she doesn’t.
And still, Enid stares, like she’s counting her lashes, mapping her freckles. Glancing at her mouth too.
“I just—I think maybe we could’ve…”
“Enid, you need to finish your thoughts. I can’t piece them together.”
Enid’s lips quirk in a smile. She shakes her head, leaning her forehead against Wednesday’s.
“I’m sorry. I’m a mess today.”
“As opposed to every other day?”
Enid chuckles. She hugs Wednesday again.
“Shut up. I’ll miss you. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”
Wednesday grips her harder.
“The feeling is mutual.”
Whatever transpired between them that day is brushed under the rug, along with a hundred looks and words and gestures that can’t seem to fit in the ‘best friend box’.
Enid is the first to leave, her parents coming to pick her up to go to the airport.
She waves sadly at Wednesday at the door and makes her promise to text her with the phone she acquired recently.
Wednesday waits in the room alone for her family to arrive.
They don’t notice anything different about her or about the room she leaves behind, but the truth is, that moment in time, that memory, becomes a tomb of an abandoned chance, a ghost of a future that never was, a corpse of the unspoken truth, festering and suffocating, that would accompany Wednesday for many years to come.