siren song
Wednesday’s jaw set, assaulting her typewriter as she noted down the next few pages of her novel. She muttered in a mix of different languages, cursing in French as she tore the page out of the device, crumpling it up with more frustration than she’d felt in weeks.
She’d believed writer’s block was a mere excuse to avoid the cold, hard facts, but this was something more than that. She’d scaled walls of issues like this before, but this one was more akin to rolling Sisyphus’ boulder up and down a steep mountain. It was repetitive, near-pointless. Every time she’d try to fix one problem, the boulder would roll through another issue, leaving her stuck.
Wednesday often found herself reflecting in her writing. It was introspective, private. She relished in the hours she set aside to do it, but today it seemed almost like a nuisance.
She heard Enid’s knuckles rap on their shared wall.
“You okay in there? This is the sixth piece of paper i've heard being destroyed within the hour.”
Her voice harbored concern. Unwarranted, in Wednesday’s opinion, but she answered her anyway.
“I can’t seem to get this next chapter right,” she replied, brows knitting. “It’s out of character for Viper to be in a rut like this. I don’t really know how to pull her out of it.”
Enid, as per usual, takes her reply as an invitation, and Wednesday felt her skip out of her own room and into Wednesday’s.
“I’m sure she’ll figure it out,” Enid leaned down behind Wednesday, inspecting the newest piece of paper for a few moments. Her hair brushed against Wednesday’s cheek, smelling of peaches and sunshine. Wednesday was tempted to lean away, but that felt too much like flinching for her liking, so she stayed there, breathing Enid in as she cocked her head to the side. “Maybe she should take a break?”
“Viper de la Muerte takes no breaks,” Wednesday shook her head, crossing her arms. “It’s not in her nature.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Enid tilted to the other side, nudging Wednesday’s head with her own. Wednesday’s hand reached up to push her away, and Enid giggled. “She’s been at this for a while. Going on a walk always helps me; maybe yo— Viper should try it, too.”
“A new perspective,” Wednesday mused. “I’ll think on it.”
“What’s her new mystery she needs to solve?” Enid asked, but Wednesday could tell she wasn’t talking about Viper anymore.
“She’s dealing with enchantresses and an unknown follower,” she said. She turned to Enid pointedly. “And a new character that just won’t leave her alone.”
Enid took a seat on Wednesday’s bed, which she didn’t even hesitate to do anymore, crossing her legs and leaning forward to listen. Wednesday didn’t elaborate that Viper harbored… emotions for this new character. It wasn’t necessary for Enid to know. But Enid’s eyes were wide and her head was tipped to the side so Wednesday found herself elaborating on her newest novel anyway, keeping out more personal details with some effort.
She felt her face grow hot as Enid’s eyes studied her face, gaze flicking down to her lips and landing on her eyebrows, and Wednesday turned away, a little embarrassed at being studied so closely. Enid giggled, the noise like a babbling brook.
“Let’s go get some coffee,” she said, leaning her cheek on the heel of her palm, almost as if she was trying to provide Wednesday an outlet. “I’ll force Ronan to drive.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she nodded, turning away to allow her cheeks to cool.
--
{the pack cubs}
lil one: ronaaaaaaannnnnnn
big one: eniiiiiiiiiiid
lil one: take me out to get cofffee
big one: why me make reed do it
shaggy: is your friend coming
shaggy: because then i’m not doing it
lil one: case in point
lil one: ronan 👏
big one: you know mom’s not gonna like that
lil one: ronan i'm so done with mom don’t even talk to me about that rn
lil one: she said she wouldn’t bother us!
furry: yeah but she’ll yell at you later
lil one: i don’t care about that anymore
lil one: i know that wednesday and i are friends, so it doesn’t matter what she thinks either way.
big one: okay, enid.
big one: i’ll drive you
lil one: see this is why you’re muh favorite :)
fuzzy: what
furry: WHAT
shaggy: WHAATTTT
big one: :)
--
Enid kicked her feet a little as she looked out into the city. Ronan was driving them the long way, for some reason, so Enid and Wednesday sat in relative silence, save for the tapping of Enid’s shoes on the car floor.
She was filled with nervous energy, a result of the shift that had occurred a few nights before coupled with the adrenaline of finally leaving her neighborhood for the first time in days. Maybe also because they were heading to the same coffee shop where she’d broken up with Ajax in.
A small, small part of her rejoiced at having brought her best friend here, almost like the force of her small yet looming presence would lear the terrible memory when she stepped in. Biting her lip, she looked out of the window, startled when she felt a hand gently touch her thigh.
“The tapping is incessant, Enid,” Wednesday said, facing her. “Your anxiety is giving me a headache. And not the good kind.”
It was said coldly, much like most of Wednesday’s words, but Enid read between the lines well enough. Wednesday’s eyes harbored a little concern, and her hand didn’t leave her thigh. She’s worried about me, Enid thought, a little giddy, but she snapped out of it once she realized she’d been staring at Wednesday’s freckles a little too hard.
“Oh, sorry,” Enid apologized, tearing her gaze away. “I’ll try to sit stiller.”
“Why are you so restless?” Wednesday asked, an annoyed look on her face. Enid felt that familiar rush as she turned back to her. Wednesday’s brows are raised in curiosity. She cares.
“This is where…” Enid pointed, and Wednesday leaned over to better see. “This is where I broke up with Ajax. He’s still trying to get me back, can you believe?”
Wednesday nods. “It seems like something he’d do. Pathetic, but on brand.”
“Some irrational part of me is convinced he’s still sitting in the corner booth,” Enid laughed, bitter. “That’s a little stupid of me, but that’s why I’m restless. I don’t want to see him.”
“I can take care of him if that unlikely possibility arises,” Wednesday said, unsheathing a knife from somewhere in her coat. Enid had learned not to be surprised about such things anymore. “If you’ll let me.”
“It’s fine,” Enid shook her head. “He’s probably not even in San Francisco, let alone some random off-the-wall coffee shop.”
Wednesday nodded, tucking the knife back into her coat. Her other hand still lingered on Enid’s thigh, and she seemed about to pull away before Enid tangled their fingers together. It’s a bold move, and Enid felt her stiffen as if she were resetting before she squeezed her hand back.
“Mom’s gonna freak,” Ronan scoffed before a growl from Enid shut him up.
Enis looked over to Wednesday, who is looking pensively out of the window. She seemed a little more lifelike than usual, a pinkness to her cheeks. She noticed Enid’s gaze on her and turned away further to hide her face, ears a rosy hue.
Enid felt her squeeze her hand again, this time pulling her towards her. She started, following, and Wednesday’s other hand pointed to a billboard.
“Enid,” Wednesday said, her fingers tightening around Enid’s. “Look.”
Enid focused on the billboard, and her heart dropped.
Morning Song, founded by Gideon Reaber. Get your life right!
“You think it’s him?” Enid asked against Wednesday’s ear.
“It’s as good a guess as any,” Wednesday replied. “The woman who died clearly wanted to send some kind of message… and she got it across.”
“He doesn’t have siren eyes,” Enid said. “They’re always stark blue, like the sea… but I suppose colored contacts exist.”
“And photo editing software.”
“So it’s a maybe on the siren theory,” Enid nods. “They don’t show their faces before or after the full moon, though… so I suspect they want werewolf parts. Like Thornhill wanted…” she shudders a little. “People parts?”
“It’s a good hypothesis,” Wednesday whispered, but there was a tinge of disappointment. “Unfortunate that I won’t be there to see further testing done.”
“I’d prefer you not use my family as test subjects, Weds,” Enid sighed, pulling away from her. She spoke in a low tone so Ronan couldn’t hear. “I’m going to get the rest of the werewolf pack involved after I leave. I just… I don’t know. It’s going to seem like I’ve been protecting them for mom’s validation or something, and that’s not the case. I don’t care what she thinks anymore.”
“Alright,” Wednesday turned away, back to the billboard. “I’m going to remember this face.”
“It’s not hard to forget. I mean, look at him,” Enid giggled, and she could have sworn she heard Wednesday laugh a little, too.
--
Wednesday watched as Enid ordered them coffee, noting the way she looked anxiously at the corner booth and then the door, fiddling with her fingers. She loosed an exasperated sigh at her nervousness, but decided not to comment on it further. She’d been far too observant of Enid as of late.
It was little things. Annoyances. Like how Enid’s hair didn’t sit right; there was always one loose strand that Wednesday was desperate to tuck behind her ear. The way her cheeks flushed when she got angry that made Wednesday want to touch her face with cold hands to get the pink out of her skin. The way she fidgeted until Wednesday touched her thigh or her shoulder, allowing her to still like she was set in rigor mortis.
Wednesday had her hands clasped together, pressed against her lips. Her brows furrowed. She wanted to skin something. Like a gorgon with a white beanie.
“Quad over ice,” Enid came to sit across from her, placing her drink down and pushing it across to Wednesday. The blonde took a long sip from her drink as she watched Wednesday inspect the drink. “And a frappe for me.”
Wednesday nodded her thanks, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Feeling better now that we’re out of the house?” Enid asked, tilting her head.
“Arguably, I’d be feeling worse,” Wednesday quipped. “Going outside in the middle of my writing time to grab a late coffee is unexpected and unwise… but yes. My head is clearer.”
“I’m glad,” Enid smiled up at her, taking another sip of her drink. Wednesday looked away as her lips pursed to sip on her straw, pinching her wrist slightly at the show of weakness. Enid bushed the hair out of her face as she drank, and Wednesday found herself ensnared once more in her eyes, blue as cold fire.
“Estaba tan preocupada por convertirme en mi madre…” Wednesday murmured quietly in Spanish. “...Que no me di cuenta de que me convertí en mi padre.”
“Hm?” Enid hummed, tone questioning. “Did you say something?”
“Nothing of importance,” Wednesday shook her head, taking another sip of her coffee before Enid could ask more questions. Because if she did, Wednesday would have no choice but to lean across the table and shut her up by force—
“Hello.”
A woman approached the table, clad entirely in yellow animal print. Her eyes were ice-blue, like a stormy sea. Wednesday saw Enid stiffen slightly. “Do you mind paying for my drink?”
--
Enid wasn’t prepared for the siren song. It was strong, washing over her like a crashing tidal wave. The urge to obey was overwhelming, but Enid shook it away. She blinked several times, sensing the aura passing through her and then dissipating.
Her hackles rose, and she felt the beginnings of a growl building up on her throat before she looked back up at the lady with a strained smile.
“Sorry, I’ve only got enough for the two of us,” she said, allowing her fangs to sharpen slightly as an indicator to her that she wasn’t the only one with supernatural abilities.
“Oh,” the woman said. “How very curious.”
She turned to Wednesday, who glared at her with dagger-sharp eyes.
“How about you? You wouldn’t mind.” she smiled, and Enid panicked when Wednesday pulled out her wallet, getting up to follow.
Her eyes were delighted and glassy, turning to the woman like Enid wasn’t sitting right in front of her.
“Of course I don’t,” Wednesday’s face stretched into an unnatural smile. “Let’s go.”
She has dimples, Enid’s mind added unhelpfully amidst the chaos. Enid reached over the table, knocking her drink away. She gripped Wednesday’s hand… only to be met with a knife pressed against her throat.
“What are you doing?” Enid held fast, feeling the blade push against her neck a little harder. “We’re having coffee.”
“I’m going with her,” Wednesday repeated. Her smile was wider now. It was terrifying and complacent and everything Wednesday was not, and Enid felt tears come to her eyes as she held Wednesday’s hand tighter.
“No, you’re not,” Enid said, a low whine emanating from her as the knife pushed deeper, almost drawing blood. “You’re staying with me.”
“Suéltame, Enid,” Wednesday said quietly in Spanish. Her eyes were turned towards the woman in yellow, glazed over but filled with longing. Enid tugged harder on Wednesday’s hand in protest.
“No,” Enid shook her head as she gleaned the meaning of the words, using her other hand to push the knife away from her neck. “You’re staying here.” She turned to the lady in yellow. “She’s staying here.”
The woman shrugged. “Weak-willed, isn’t she? Even a human wouldn’t be this insistent on leaving. She must hate you.”
Enid ignored the words. She heard enough of this at home, anyway.
“Leave us alone,” she growled, louder this time. “Or I will draw attention, siren.”
“Please, Enid,” Wednesday turned to Enid, desperate and frustrated. Small emotions be damned. Her lip was quivering slightly as her eyes pleaded for Enid to let her go. It was so unnatural that Enid had to stop herself from retching at the sight of her best friend acting so oddly.
“No. You’re staying.”
The woman sighed, as if disappointed by Enid’s actions. “Fine.”
She moved on to the person in the booth in front of them, and Enid shuddered as she heard the song in her voice. The man, tall and thin, followed her and paid for her drink robotically.
“Wednesday,” she turned back to the raven-haired girl, but gasped when she saw her face.
Wednesday Addams was crying. It was quiet and barely noticeable, but the tears streamed down her cheeks as the woman left the coffee shop, eyes glazed over.
The picture of grief.
“Weds,” Enid squeezed her hand, getting up to sit next to her in the booth. “Wednesday, she’s gone. You can stop now.”
Wednesday sniffed slightly, head still cocked toward the door like the siren in yellow would return once more for her. Her eyes were red, puffy as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Hey, can you hear me?” Enid squeezed her hand, the other coming up to brush the tears off of her face. Wednesday still didn’t look at her, until Enid’s hands trembled in her grip. “Wednesday. Snap out of it. Look at me.”
She tugged Wednesday’s chin down. The tears slowed. Wednesday looked right through her, like she was merely an invisible force pulling her away.
“Wednesday, please,” Enid pleaded, and suddenly she was crying too, burying her face into her unresponsive best friend’s shoulder as she gripped her sweater. Wednesday’s hands remained by her sides. “Come back to me.”
--
After what felt like hours but was more likely a few minutes, Enid felt Wednesday twitch. She reached up over Enid’s shoulder, touching her pale face and stiffening as she felt the wetness of tears in her eyes. Enid held tighter.
“Enid,” Wednesday said thickly, finally wrapping her arms around the trembling girl. “What just happened?”
Wednesday sat at the corner booth, rigid fingers around her coffee cup. She didn’t move, a glare fixed on the cup, noting the cracks that formed on the rim as her fingers pressed against the ceramic a little harder.
Enid had gone to get paper towels once she’d noticed that her drink was spilled all over the table. She’d filled Wednesday in with bare-boned details and scurried off, wiping away tears as Wednesday sat there, frozen in shock.
She’d never had her head tampered with like that. Not to the point where she cried for it. She didn’t remember a thing about whatever incident took place between Enid and her having a pleasant conversation over their respective drinks… and then a spilled frappe and someone sobbing into her sweater, and it infuriated her. She held the cup tighter.
When Enid came back, Wednesday’s gaze was still fixed on the cup of coffee that continued to crack under the pressure Wednesday pressed against it. She looked tidier, hair less disheveled and face less puffy. Her eyes were still red.
“Are you okay?” she asked, mopping up the mess on the other end of the table.
“Clearly not,” Wednesday looked back up at her, deadpan. “You still haven’t elaborated.”
“There isn’t much to elaborate, Weds,” Enid said, utilizing that horrible nickname she’d cultivated for the black-haired girl that made her heart seem to spasm. “Siren asked you to pay for your drink. You agreed. I held you back.”
“Why was there a knife in my hand?” she pressed. Enid shrugged.
“I touched you, so you did what you do best,” she said. There was clear hurt in her eyes despite the nonchalance, and Wednesday couldn’t help but feel a little anger at Enid’s vagueness. Enid wiped at the same spot on the table for the fifth time.
“Details, Enid,” Wednesday reached out to still one of Enid’s hands to still them. “Did I hurt you?”
Enid’s eyes snapped back up to Wednesday’s when their hands met, and she shook her head. She pulled her hand away. “Not physically. You put the knife to my throat but I got it away before you could draw blood.”
Wednesday felt her heart freeze in her chest, and not in the good way. It wasn’t calm and numbing like morgues and cemeteries. It burned, like the teeth of frostbite amidst a raging blizzard.
“Enid, I-” Wednesday tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave her tongue. The cold feeling spread to her throat. She coughed to clear it before trying again. “I-”
“It’s fine,” Enid shook her head. “I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not mad or anything.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Wednesday admonished.
“You didn’t need to,” Enid replied, words cutting. “You were trying to apologize. And you’re forgiven. I figured I’d spare you the pain of saying it out loud.”
Wednesday didn’t have much to say to that. She just looked back down into her cup of cold coffee and waited for Enid to speak again. But she didn’t. It was unlike her to leave a conversation so long, and Wednesday tried to pipe up again, only to be meant with eyes of blue fire.
“What?” Enid’s voice held an unnatural coldness to it. Wednesday’s mind unhelpfully clocked it as something innately attractive. “You’re staring.”
Wednesday’s gaze snapped back to her hands. “My apologies.”
She hoped that the true meaning of her words slipped past the blonde-haired girl’s odd perceptiveness, though she suspected it wouldn’t be of much use. Enid always seemed to understand the intricacies of Wednesday’s mind through small actions. Big words like ‘forgive me’ or ‘i’m sorry’ would seem like manipulation tactics from her.
Wednesday really needed to figure out better ways to communicate.
She supposed a change of scenery was in order.