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“I hate thunderstorms…” Enid whined, pacing behind Wednesday, who was typing another sentence into her novel. She flailed her arms in frustration, utterly upset. “I’ve got to get that spin down, and I can’t even practice because the electricity went out!”
Wednesday sighed, deep, slow, and weary. Enid had been complaining about the power outage for half an hour, and although Wednesday had trained herself to block out noise, Enid Sinclair was a force even she couldn’t mute. Her concentration cracked as her patience thinned.
Enid caught it.
“Sorry, Willa. I’m not trying to interrupt your writing time, it’s just…the full moon’s still getting to me, and these stupid silver pills they’re making us take aren’t doing anything.” She dropped onto the edge of her bed with a dramatic huff.
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “It is still unfathomable to me how they are forcing you to take those pills,” she said, pausing her typing. Her fingers hovered over the keys, tense. “You should be able to run wild and free. It is in your nature and they are repressing that.”
Enid gave a small groan and flopped backward. “And now my phone died!”
A storm of doubt churned in Wednesday’s gut. She rubbed the bridge of her nose in exasperation, knowing Enid would not rest until all that chaotic, kinetic energy had somewhere to go. She looked at her watch. It was almost midnight… Without another word, she stood abruptly, walked to the corner, and pulled her cello case from its place against the wall.
“Enid,” she said, voice firm. “Get your gear and meet me at the dance studio.” And she left without waiting for a response.
…
The studio glowed with silver-blue light, moonlight streaming through the high windows where the curtains had been drawn open. It looked like something out of a dream, magical and expectant. The storm outside rattled the glass, but in here, it felt still.
Enid stepped inside, hesitating.
Wednesday was already seated on the far side of the room, cello resting between her knees, bow in hand.
“Um…” Enid blinked. “What’s going on?”
Wednesday rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “Your insistent complaints about not being able to practice due to the lack of power… irked me.” She set her bow down and stood, walking toward Enid, her expression unreadable. “You do not need power to do the things you love…” She reached for her cuffs, unfastening them with calculated ease, and loosened the top button of her shirt. “Get ready,” she said simply. “I shall play. You will dance.”
Then she returned to her cello like nothing had happened.
Enid was too shocked to reply. What had she just witnessed? Wednesday Addams, letting loose? She blinked, walking to the dance floor, placing her bag down, and fixing her skirt. She took a few timid steps. Wednesday had never seen her dance; she had never shown interest in any of the extracurricular activities Enid partook in, so this was new.
Wednesday´s fingers hovered over the strings of her cello, brushing delicately as she considered her piece while Enid started bending her knees for a Plié.
Wednesday´s eyes drifted to her as she stretched her leg and foot in a perfectly elaborated Tendu. “I did not know you had training in classical ballet.” Wednesday said aloud, the thought slipping unfiltered from her mouth.
Enid smiled, a little breathless. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Willa.” She stretched again, this time going for a fluid circular movement. “I’m much more than I seem to be.” She winked, making Wednesday blink.
“I see,” she said, regaining composure. “Very well. What would you like me to play for your rehearsal?”
Enid spun once and paused. “Whatever your heart tells you is fitting. I’ll just flow with that.” She smiled, eyes glinting silver in the moonlight. She had meant it playfully, but the moment the words left her lips, something shifted in Wednesday’s gaze.
She stared at her for a moment longer, the world narrowing to one sunbeam of a girl standing ready under the storm. She gave a short nod, then lowered her bow to the strings with sharp precision.
The song began low, a note long and resonant. Then a momentum, a cascade of arpeggios, fast, fluid, and precise. The opening of Bach’s Prelude in G Major, but not with its usual clinical restraint.
This felt like Wednesday was opening a door in her ever-guarded heart. This was Wednesday feeling.
Enid spun as the tempo picked up, caught a bit off guard by the urgency in the song’s build-up. She glanced at Wednesday, but she wasn’t looking at her; her eyes were closed as she played by memory. Her brow was slightly furrowed. Enid could see that it wasn’t in concentration but in feeling the song. It was a rare display, something Enid had never seen before.
She let herself flow to the music and also closed her eyes and letting the tune course through her body. She stepped forward and spun. One foot tracing a circle, her arms above her head. She wasn’t thinking; her body found the rhythm naturally, like her muscles remembered every move.
Enid made another turn and a grand battement. She landed in a clean fourth, then let her arms fall, breath catching on a sudden shift in the phrasing, a high rising pattern that sounded like…longing.
Wednesday’s playing grew more intense. Enid opened her eyes and looked at her once more, only this time Wednesday was looking back, a faint hint of a smile etched on her lips. Each phrase fell from her fingers like an unspoken truth. The rhythm was steady, but Enid noticed her hands were slightly shaking. Wednesday wasn’t just performing; she was confessing.
Enid spun again, the air catching in her throat as the realization bloomed in her chest. This wasn’t for practice or for a distraction. Wednesday was playing for her… She was playing from the heart, for her heart.
Enid faltered for just a breath, mid-turn, their eyes met yet again. This time her eyes never left Enid’s, not once. She played like she was breathing with her, like the music came from Enid’s motion and not the other way around. They moved in sync, wordless and unbroken. Thunder raged outside, but in that studio it was only the sound of two hearts beating to the same tune.
As the final notes rang out and faded into silence, Enid stood still, chest rising and falling, skin flushed with heat and breathlessness after such a passionate session. “Willa…that was…”
Wednesday gently set her cello aside, her movements slow and deliberate. Then she stepped forward, close enough for Enid to feel the warmth rolling off her skin. “I…hope that soothed your restlessness for the night.” She said calmly, yet her voice was quieter. More human.
Enid stepped forward too, unsure, riding the edge of whatever had just passed between them. “You could’ve just told me to shut up.” She offered, a nervous laugh bubbling out of her.
“I considered it,” Wednesday replied with a shrug. “But I suppose this was a more harmonious solution.”
Enid’s smile softened. She noticed the fine sheen of sweat on Wednesday’s forehead, how her bangs clung slightly to her brow. She reached up gently, brushing them aside. “You’re incredible, you know that?” She whispered.
Wednesday’s shoulders softened under her touch. Her eyes grew warmer, less guarded. “I am aware.” She replied in a quiet huff.
Enid let her fingers trail down Wednesday’s cheek, slow and reverent. “Thank you for this, Willa.”
Wednesday leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. She then realized something that she had been dreading to admit to herself and much less aloud… She had fallen, deeply and utterly so, for Enid Sinclair. For every bit and piece, for every smile and growl, for all the color and spice the wolf was known for and in that beautiful chaos she broke, “That was…my heart’s desire…” She opened her eyes, meeting Enid’s, “It was my way of surrendering myself entirely to you…”
Enid’s breath caught. Their faces mere inches apart, “Willa…” She muttered as she leaned in and their lips met.
The kiss was soft but deep, slow but certain. Words unspoken poured into it like a second song, felt rather than heard. Wednesday smiled faintly against her mouth as Enid’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Their hearts once again pounded in sync, in love…
Outside, just beyond the studio doors, Yoko and Divina watched through the glass door. “I haven’t seen this kind of wooing since the 17th century.” Yoko chuckled, “Trust an Addams to know how to get a girl.”
Divina giggled, “And I bet you’ve seen a lot of Addams wooing techniques.”
“You have no idea.” Yoko wiggled her eyebrows, then threw an arm around Divina’s shoulder as they wandered off, leaving the pair behind still tangled in each other, wrapped in moonlight and everything they’d finally let themselves feel.
The End