Wednesday Addams had never been one for sentimentality. Love, to her, had always seemed like a foolish endeavor—until she grew older and found herself watching her parents with something dangerously close to longing.

Gomez and Morticia moved in perfect synchrony, a devotion so absolute it was almost unnerving. The way her father would kiss her mother’s hand as if she were the very air he breathed, the way Morticia’s eyes softened when she looked at him—Wednesday despised how it made her yearn.

She wanted that. A love drenched in darkness yet burning like an eternal flame. But she was an Addams—she couldn’t admit it, not even to herself.

One evening, she stood in the mansion’s vast library, fingers ghosting over the spine of an old poetry book. The candlelight flickered, casting elongated shadows as she let out a quiet sigh.

“Is it so foolish to want something… consuming?” she muttered.

Enid, sprawled out on the couch beside her, blinked in surprise. It wasn’t often Wednesday opened up, and when she did, it usually wasn’t about romance.

“Not foolish at all. You deserve that kind of love, Wednesday. Someone who looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Enid said, tilting her head. Wednesday hesitated for a moment, then, as if testing the weight of her words, she finally admitted it.

“I think I’ve found them.. Or better.. Her.”

Enid sat up so fast she almost fell off the couch. She quickly asks who this mysterious girl could be.

Wednesday didn’t answer right away. She simply turned back to her book, but there was the slightest smirk on her lips.

Enid: “Oh my god. Who is it?!”

The only response she got was the flickering of candlelight, but Wednesday’s silence said more than words ever could.

And here she is the next day, at the exit of the school, in the garden of the Nevermore, admiring Enid from afar.