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"It's alright. You're not exactly the first person to have made me feel unwanted."
Although it was said under Enid's breath, completely unintended for anyone but the werewolf to hear, Wednesday's unique Addams hearings had picked it up.
And it broke her heart, something Wednesday didn't realize was even possible.
Enid had spoken it mindlessly, as if it's something she tells herself daily, and it makes Wednesday want to tear the flesh of her chest open and force Enid inside so she can protect her.
But how can Wednesday come to even do that, when it was her who made Enid feel such sorrow.
Their friendship was relatively new then, barely got to form under the pressure of their mutual misunderstandings of each other and Wednesday's own devotion to her investigations.
Wednesday can't even remember what they were fighting about anymore. All the arguments they once had before getting to this point, where she is slowly learning the woeful ways of loving and being loved by Enid Sinclair, seemed insignificant and stupid and mindless.
What the Addams heir can't forget, no matter how hard she tries, is the way Enid had muttered those wrenchingly heart-aching words to herself and herself only, as if to twist the proverbial knife Wednesday just stabbed her with, before turning her heels and leaving their shared dorm.
Now that Wednesday knows how it feels to actually have such a painful sensation happens to you, (thank you Laurel), she understands what that God-awful simultaneous squeeze and drooping of her heart meant.
Guilt.
Undeniably, overwhelmingly encompassing guilt.
Thing had been so mad. It was the first time Wednesday had ever been yelled at like that in her entire life.
Blinded by her cause, Wednesday had dismissed him and the smaller, quieter part of Wednesday who had loved Enid Sinclair right from the moment she first saw her.
Wednesday hates herself everyday for that.
Now that Tyler is in prison, Laurel somewhere just as isolated, and she has the privilege of holding Enid's heart in her hands and tasked with the most important job on this Earth to protect, to dote, and to love Enid Sinclair as much as she deserves.
Personally, Wednesday can give the werewolf the whole world and it wouldn't still feel like enough.
And so as a compromise, suggested by Thing who had given her the most offensive eye roll (how a hand can do that, Wednesday can't tell you) before giving it to her straight.
"If you can't give her the world, give your whole self. Because to Enid, you are already her whole world."
At the ripe age of 16, Wednesday would have pointed out the absolute impossibility of being someone's entire world and vice versa. Statistically, it just doesn't happen that fast, nor that early, nor at all, in life.
But Wednesday's heart, the one that's been beating her insides to a pulp to release itself from its prison of a lifetime of emotional suppression, knows she's lying.
Enid turned for her. Enid wolfed out for her.
And Wednesday, Wednesday would do anything for her. She who never does anything she doesn't want to, will do absolutely anything and everything the werewolf asks of her.
They are destined, fated, intertwined, connected by the red strings of love, the other half completing another's soul, the light to another's darkness. No matter the corny metaphor Gomez and Morticia like to use that makes Wednesday want to carve her eye balls out of their sockets, she knows deep down they were right.
Wednesday was born on this Earth destined for many great things. But the greatest one of all, was to be by Enid's side.
"Wednesday?"
She can't, on her good conscience and anyone else's, ever make Enid feel unwanted again.
"Wednesday? Are you listening to me?"
But the question remains, how does she right her wrong. What can she possibly do to make sure Enid knows she is the last love of Wednesday's life?
"Willa."
Would Enid like to be given flowers every day? How about breakfast in bed? Would public affections assure her of Wednesday's lifelong (and beyond that) devotion? What's the name of Enid's now broken headphones, maybe she can buy her a new pair. How about-
"Wednesday Friday Addams!"
Let it be known, that Wednesday did not make a startled squeak. No. That noise came from Thing.
Shaking her head to re-center herself back to reality, Wednesday tilts her head down only to be faced with the devastating sight of a trademarked Enid SinclairTM sad pout.
"Enid, what seems to be the matter?"
The pout stays, much to Wednesday's poor heart bashing itself against the walls of her chest bones in what feels scarily similar to the phenomenon coined "cuteness aggression".
"Weren't you paying attention?" Enid asks, lower lip almost quivering. "I wanted to show you the gloves I'm knitting for you."
Indeed, in Enid's lap, who is consequentially currently situated on Wednesday's lap, is a bunch of black and white threads of yarns. Last she saw of him, Thing was in there somewhere too, helping his beloved friend untangle the accidental knots.
It appears it's just the two of them now.
"I mean, they don't really look like gloves yet…" her pout deepens, Enid shyly gestures down the unidentifiable piece of black cloth. Her cheeks tint the prettiest shade of pink, the kind that always makes Wednesday wants to kiss adoringly.
"But they will! I promise!" the werewolf determines, before remembering herself and turning back to sulk at Wednesday. "You could at least be a little interested, Willa. I just want you to be warm when you go out on your newest adventures."
It's been a week since Enid sit her down to watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas, so please excuse Wednesday if she uses this wrong, but by God does she feel her heart expand thrice its size.
For a heart Wednesday and so many others once considered cold and dead, it can contain so much love for the blonde werewolf in her arms.
The adoration and affection must've slipped through her façade, though it's not like Wednesday even tries to keep it up around her girlfriend anymore, because Enid's pink cheeks darken just a bit more, the girl visibly squirming and blushing under the intensity of an Addams sickeningly in love.
"Why would I need gloves when I have you to keep me warm."
It's always shocking when Wednesday finds words of such Gomez-ness coming out of her own mouth, but she can't fault the tiny smitten Wednesday banging on her rib cage yelling "Cheesier! Cornier! More honest! More heartfelt! More love!".
She really can't, not when it makes Enid lets out the cutest of shy whimpers. The sound is so saccharinely adorable, so reminiscent of the puppy videos her girlfriend adores that it literally makes Wednesday's teeth ache.
"Willa!" be still, Wednesday's stuttering heart. "You can't- you can't just say things like that!"
An eyebrow raises in amused defiant, Wednesday tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind a pink reddish ear. The cheek she holds in her palm feels warm, almost as warm as the forest fire brewing hot inside Wednesday's stomach.
"And why not, cara mia?" she asks, face stoic despite the smallest itch of her lip that would be unnoticeable to anyone else who isn't Enid.
"I intend on having you with me on my investigations from now on. I will keep you safe by fending off all the monsters, and you will keep me warm by holding my hand."
The Addams blood in her veins soars to an impossible height when Wednesday gives in to her urges pressing a feather-light kiss against that blushing cheek. If that traitorous curl of her lips hiked up even higher at the resulting puppy-like whine, then it's Wednesday's business and Wednesday's alone.
"On days when you're not physically with me, I will carry you and your love in the memories we shared. I will think of the sound of your voice, how you calm me. I will think of your smile, how you mesmerize me and light me blind. And I will think of your touch, how I crave for you, ache for you, and I will tear the whole world down if it means running back into your arms."
Truth be told, Enid held on longer than Wednesday had expected.
That last groan of fond exasperation warned Wednesday of an impending attack, but the Addams will go through fire, step on glass, challenge Poseidon to a swim, and consume that disgusting drink called pumpkin spice latte if it means she gets to feel Enid Sinclair's soft lips against hers.
Wednesday pours all the love and affection she has into the kiss, the instinct to devote and dote almost automatic after so many years of yearning and many months of practice.
Enid, extraordinary super-being with an even more amazing and incredible heart, gives back as much as she takes. Oh but she doesn't know Wednesday can, will, give her more than this.
She's made a promise, she will give Enid every last drop of her, and more if she asks.
"You make me feel unwanted." circles at the back of Wednesday's head, almost as if taunting her to do more, to give more. A reminder. A warning. A promise.
Wednesday refuses to stop their kiss, even as she sits up from the head board. Enid's surprise squeak doesn't deter her either, her werewolf paramour's body pliant and soft as the Addams switches their position and climbs on top.
The soft fabric of her mattress touches Enid's back, eliciting an open-mouthed gasp that allows Wednesday entry into the hotter, wetter cavern of her mouth. Enid's head spins in desire as she tries to keep up with the heiress's passionate kisses, her hips canting upwards, craving for more.
Wednesday can feel Enid's colorful nails weaving themselves through her hair, shivers at the light scratch against her nape.
Enid's lips curl up in smirk satisfaction at Wednesday's reaction, and that won't do. Wednesday won't allow it.
Pressing down so her whole body now touches Enid's, Wednesday nibbles the plump, swollen lips that she adores so much. She delights in the pleasured whimper escaping the werewolf, making sure her legs tighten around Enid's hips so she can't move.
Finally surrendering, their lips separating with a wet smack that would have made even Yoko blush at its lewdness, Enid's head slouches back against the pillow, leaving the beautiful slope of her neck for Wednesday to explore.
"Baby… Willa…" the sudden bite on her clavicle temporarily derails Enid's train of thoughts, but she doesn't ask Wednesday to stop. "If this is your way of telling me you don't want to wear my gloves, I will withhold sex and sulk for at least a week."
The audacity of Wednesday to chuckle in disbelief would have earned an offended guffaw from the werewolf on any other day, but before Enid can even summon that last one brain cell clearly hanging on by a thread, the sensation of Wednesday's fang on her ear releases a moan so loud it would have had them expelled immediately had they were still at Nevermore.
Alas, having a whole apartment to themselves was a wise idea after all. Even if it was bought under the embarrassingly knowing gazes of Gomez and Morticia Addams.
"I would wear anything you make me, mi amor" Wednesday's voice brings Enid out of her stupor, hot breath blowing on her lips, agitatedly just out of reach "If it just so happens that you wouldn't want me wearing anything at all, I would be okay with that too."
Wednesday doesn't bother to hide the borderline maniacal smile etching on her face, knowing that will be Enid's last straw.
For the rest of the night, and for the rest of her life and beyond that because why would Wednesday Addams cower in front of death and mortality, she will make sure Enid Sinclair knows that she's desired, that she's wanted, and that she's loved beyond measures.
Even if it means she might forget her own name as a result. Occupational hazard, Gomez and Morticia would say. They would be proud.