Chapter Text

Chapter One: Gertrude Hall

In which Wednesday Addams moves into her new university accommodation

The eldest daughter of the eccentric Addams family, and recent alumnus of Nevermore Academy, would rather move into a morgue basement than acclimatise to a new roommate. Well, she would choose the chill metal of a coroner’s corpse storage over most beds, and the mingled atmosphere of formaldehyde and sanitiser and decay was particularly effective at lulling her to sleep. But the point still stood. Wednesday Addams did not want a new roommate.

Adjusting to one Enid Sinclair had almost been the death of her when Wednesday had first been transferred to Nevermore. Admittedly, Enid had then also been the reason (several times over) why Wednesday had ultimately avoided death. While conceptually this may have in some parts of Wednesday’s mind felt like an experience that Enid had stolen from her, she conceded that being alive to continue to experience the thrill of possible and impending but not actual death was preferable. Not to mention the fact that, over their several years rooming together, Wednesday thought that she had admirably grown as a person (not literally, but don’t point that out) and come to… tolerate Enid. Any more growth than that would’ve caused Wednesday to have said growth cut out from her flesh in an act of unanaesthetised vivisection. But allowing just one person into her cold, barely beating heart was acceptable, if only because it meant that Wednesday had the luxury of not just committing murder for herself, but choosing to do so for the sake of another worthy soul.

Of course, the torture of the American education system, even for outcasts, did not care that Wednesday had adjusted to a life with this particular roommate, when it spat her out the other end of high school and demanded that she find some new purpose and routine with which to fill the passage of time. Unlike physical torture at the hands of a skilled practitioner, perhaps in her family home’s ancient dungeon, the practical and administrative nature of this particular type of torture was not something that Wednesday enjoyed. Oh, she certainly appreciated just how efficiently and effectively educational institutes could tear a child apart and leave them in tears. Wednesday herself had simply experienced more than enough inconvenience from the teachers and other staff at Nevermore to ever wish to be weighed down by them again.

What was her alternative, though? Permanently return to her family home and live off their hoarded wealth and grow bored with every passing year? Find a partner and start a sickeningly mundane nuclear family of her own? Seek out immediate employment while she was only eighteen? Sure, some options presented themselves on that third option: Apprentice Serial Killer; Cemetery Night Guard; Mafia Thug. But all of those felt like settling for something beneath her, when Wednesday wanted to be the very best (that is, Master Serial Killer, Cemetery Mogul, or Mafia Boss). A classical education, including a course of study that included literature, chemistry, and an extracurricular in yet another martial art, seemed like the best way forward.

Unfortunately, there was no such thing as an outcast university. And, though each public or private university for normies provided its own uniquely torturous educational and social experience, Wednesday didn’t much care for the way in which American colleges vied for their status. If she’d been able to go to Oxford or Cambridge… Well, the graves there were much older, and the architecture legitimately gothic or even older, so Wednesday may have been willing to deal with the process of moving to England. But they hadn’t liked her application letters, responding with something along the lines of:

Dear Miss Addams,

Despite admiring your creativity and passion in assembling your application, the implication of potentially psychotic and violent tendencies that your anecdotes display, blah blah blah…

Therefore, we regret to inform you that Oxbridge will not be offering you a position this year. We wish you the best of luck with your applications elsewhere.

Signed with great snobbery and closed-mindedness,

The Committee of Stuffy Old White Men.

By comparison, at least the American universities were crooked enough to accept almost anything in an application letter if it smelled like old money. And Wednesday knew that, in addition to the sizeable donation that accompanied her application to her school of choice, the recipients would be drooling over the expensive, creamy paper and crisp, typewritten text of her letter. The university had a decent reputation, but not being one of the wealthiest in the country, the promise of a student like Wednesday—with perfect grades and even more perfect bank accounts—was not something that they would turn down even if she had chosen ‘the time that I let myself be kidnapped by a serial killer and turned the tables on him’ as her story of preparing for a challenging situation and overcoming adversity.

The main reason for settling on this particular college, however, was a lot simpler. Not that Wednesday would admit it to anyone, and therefore had not even informed her parents. (“I threw a sharpened fingerbone at a map and that’s just where it landed,” she had claimed.) No, it was simply that Enid had enrolled in this school, and Wednesday needed at least one non-stranger around to help her carry bodies or act as lookout when she inevitably grew bored with her tedious classes and needed to fill her nights with something more appealing. Maybe she would’ve settled for continuing to rope Pugsley into doing her dirty work, but he still had several more years before graduating from Nevermore, and unlike Wednesday did not have sufficient brainpower for her to trust that he’ll actually graduate on time, let alone early.

Lurch pulled the family hearse into the university grounds, right up to the front door of Wednesday’s new dormitory. Gertrude Hall. Luckily, the very closest parking spot had been reserved especially for them with several hideously orange road cones and a sign over a manhole that read ‘workers below, do not obstruct.’ As she had at Nevermore Academy, Wednesday’s belongings were limited. Two black suitcases, her cello, her typewriter, and little else besides. If the furniture in the room wasn’t sufficiently bleak and deteriorated, Wednesday could always enlist Enid and her werewolf strength to lug something back from an antique store or a condemned house.

The room that Wednesday had been allocated—after a persuasive phone call outlining her specific needs and just how much she didn’t care if those spaces had already been assigned to other students—was on the top floor of Gertude Hall. The balcony was smaller than the one in Ophelia Hall, but large enough for Wednesday to sit with her cello and practice late into the night. As with her room before, this too required Wednesday to tolerate the presence of another human being. (And maybe even an actual normie human this time.) But she was confident that, given a few weeks, the school administration would agree that it was best to just leave Wednesday to her own devices and not replace the roommate who she would inevitably cause to drop out and run home in terror.

As of yet, said temporary roommate appeared to have not moved in. No other suitcases or evidence of life was present in the room, other than some detritus that appeared to have been left from a previous occupant. Unless the sum total of her new roommate’s belongings were some candy wrappers and a dirty sock and half of a poster. At least that would be slightly less offensive to the eye than Enid’s nauseating display of colour. (Wednesday’s breath did not hitch slightly at the idea of never waking up to Enid’s fairy lights and plushies ever again.)

This had been the plan. Arrive early, claim her space, start her relationship with her new roommate on the right terms: A cold, threatening stare and a declaration of the fatal consequences of disturbing Wednesday’s personal space. Though things had worked out with Enid in the end, Wednesday still felt that they would’ve gotten off to a much more transparent and understanding start had Wednesday not been required to carve out space for herself in pink-hued enemy territory. Not being a transfer student this time, Wednesday was able to lay down the law and assert her authoritative intentions from day one.

The difficult part now, however, was that Wednesday had to sit and wait for her unknown opponent to show up. And that could take all day. Leaving and finding something else to do wasn’t an option, because she was not willing to risk an entitled and obnoxious individual arriving in her absence and messing with her things. Never leave your borders unprotected.

Lurch, not being much of a talker, nodded farewell shortly after depositing Wednesday’s things just inside the door. Just to make sure that he hadn’t been instructed by one of her parents to stick around, spy, and report back, Wednesday watched from the balcony until the black hearse pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight. A helmeted head pushed through the manhole below where Lurch had parked, belonging to a man who clawed his way out of the sewer and lay prostrate on the asphalt, panic in his eyes. A reasonable omen, Wednesday felt, though news of a corpse turning up in the sewers the following day would perhaps have been better.

“Alright, out you come,” Wednesday called, when she was sure that Lurch was not returning.

A severed hand with perfectly moisturised skin and clipped cuticles wriggled out from Wednesday’s backpack, signing, I’ve already been to college, please tell me why you’ve dragged me back?

“Thing, you proved yourself invaluable as an asset in my investigations at Nevermore,” said Wednesday. “I could not imagine going through the experience of college without you.”

Twisting the truth to flatter me will not work, Thing signed.

“I’ll buy you a new hand lotion,” Wednesday offered.

Bribery is good, but not enough. I’ve got an entire manicure setup back home…

Wednesday sighed, knowing that she had the ultimate card to play, but hadn’t entirely intended to use it straight away. But Lurch was gone now, and she knew that Thing would be loyal (or, loyal enough). So she said, “Well, Enid is going to be attending this school too.”

Thing’s signing was a flurry of excited gestures, most of which either weren’t real words or were too fast for even Wednesday to follow. But she got the gist.

You never told Gomez or Morticia, he pointed out.

“What reason had I? It’s none of their business.”

They might’ve insisted on coming along to drop you off, so that they could say hello to Enid.

“All the more reason to keep them in the dark. I do not need their coddling, nor do I wish to see them fawn over my acquaintance who, despite her atrocious colour preferences, they seem to appreciate more than they appreciate me.”

I wasn’t under the impression that you wanted to be appreciated, Thing signed. But I was under the impression that Enid was your ‘friend.’

“You’re being awfully frank and offensive for a hand with plenty of extraneous fingers, Thing,” said Wednesday.

And you’re being awfully rude to Enid after all you went through together, Thing responded. However, he made a point of shuffling further back from Wednesday.

Wednesday didn’t press the matter. Just because Enid had maybe earned the title of friend didn’t mean that she had therefore lost the title of acquaintance. Wednesday was still acquainted with Enid, was she not? It was all semantics, and she wasn’t going to argue semantics with a bundle of fingers, no matter how uniquely articulate.

Scurrying off to make himself busy, and therefore scarce, Thing left Wednesday to continue to wait for her impending (if impermanent) doom. Thing knew to be even more cautious here than at Nevermore, with how many normies were around, but Wednesday also expected that he wouldn’t go too far just yet. Finding his escape routes and secluded listening spots, no doubt.

For better or worse, Wednesday did not end up with only the company of her own thoughts for very long. She set up her typewriter, made her bed with her void-black sheets, and had barely made a start on unpacking her clothes before a knock came at the door.

“Enter,” Wednesday called. Better to get this over with.

A thin young woman with light brown hair cautiously opened the door, which creaked as it swung. She peered inside, eyes going wide as she met Wednesday’s gaze.

“You must be my new roommate,” Wednesday said, rising to her feet. She did not extend a hand in greeting. “Let me make myself clear before you take another step. You will respect my space and follow the instructions that I set for you, if you wish this experience to be painless. But my standards are high, so set your expectations now. The likelihood of you surviving long is minimal, so don’t get too comfortable.”

The girl merely continued to stare at Wednesday, frozen in shock. Wednesday held her eye contact, face impassive but knowing that her murderous intensity was shining through regardless.

Eventually, the girl managed to say, “Oh, umm… sorry, I’ll be gone soon. I’m so sorry, Miss…? You know what, never mind. I’m just here to bring…”

Trailing off, Wednesday heard a second voice whisper something, which the girl took as permission to duck back out of the doorway and flee down the stairs. The second voice spoke up a little louder, as its owner pushed the door all the way open. It said, “I’d know the sound of those threats of violence anywhere!”

Wednesday knew this voice. “Enid?”

“Surprise!” shouted Enid Sinclair, bursting into the room. She rushed right up to Wednesday, skidding slightly as she came to a stop just before entering the most dangerous inner circle of Wednesday’s personal bubble. The twitch in Enid’s wrists clearly betrayed her difficulty in holding back from hugging Wednesday.

“But how…” Wednesday began.

“The RA sent an email to me and one or two other outcasts starting this year, after receiving a phone call from a certain someone demanding the top room with the balcony. Honestly, Wends, he sounded scared for his life. Apparently, he didn’t feel safe only shunting one of the existing students out of here, and leaving the other to fend for herself. I didn’t even need him to confirm your name to know exactly who the new occupant would be. So I put my hand up for the spot before anyone else could reply. I mean, what are the chances? But, only if that’s okay… If rooming with me at Nevermore was too much… I guess I was just so excited that, maybe—” said Enid, then she cut herself off.

Though the spiel that had just vomited from Enid’s mouth left Wednesday a little dizzy, underneath all of that, she felt nothing but immense relief. The other half of her room would be distressingly pink again, but what if she’d had to adjust to someone who liked a different awful colour, or a different kind of awful music?

Taking half a step forward, Wednesday let her head fall forward until it landed with a thunk on Enid’s shoulder. Wednesday let out a long, exhausted sigh. It definitely wasn’t a hug, but it was an admission of welcome and gratitude, to the small extent that Wednesday could ever summon such emotions.

“Ow, Wends,” Enid protested at what was effectively a headbutt. Then she let out a squee, which instantly brought on a sharp pain in Wednesday’s skull. Luckily, Wednesday enjoyed a good headache every now and then. Enid continued, “But I’ll take that as a good sign. God, Wends, I’m so happy that we get to still be roomies!”