Fade to Black

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/56437174.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/F
Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022)
Relationship: Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair
Characters: Wednesday Addams, Enid Sinclair, Pugsley Addams, Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Wednesday is spiderwoman, bc EYEEEE said so, First Kiss, Wednesday
needs a hug, Enid Needs a Hug, pulls inspiration from all spidermans
tbh, mostly tom holland spiderman, which one is that???, Uhm, Suicidal
Ideation, Fluff and Angst, uhm they're def ooc to canon, but its a
spiderman au so get over it
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-06-07 Words: 7,643 Chapters: 1/?
 Fade to Black
by wenclairendgame

Summary

Wednesday only has one goal her junior year of high school: Get all the necessary grades
needed to graduate early her senior year.

Unfortunately, a radioactive spider derails her plans.

Notes

idk what this is. help.

Look, Wednesday didn’t intend to become a superhero.

Not really.

Of course, sometimes her and her friends would wonder what their life would be like if they
had the power to change the world. To do something that was revolutionary. Xavier and Tyler
often got into heated spats over the whole thing, whilst Wednesday always thought that
superheroes were over glorified men in suits and super toys.

Most of the superheroes that existed in their world were usually some sort of freak accident.
Captain America was a super soldier that should have never survived being frozen in ice. In
fact, he should have never been able to survive the amount of drugs Howard Stark pumped
into him. It shouldn’t even be feasible that The Hulk could transform his body into a giant
green monster on a whim.

To make matters worse, of course their leader is just a multi-billionaire philanthropist in a

nano-technology suit with way too much time and money on his hands.

Wednesday’s heard more than enough. In fact, she may simply stab herself in the eye with a
pencil if she hears Xaiver and Tyler fight over the Avengers one more time. She could handle
them enjoying their own things, but those poor boys idolize them. They idolize people with
supernatural abilities, and all they are is a couple of teenagers.

That’s all they ever will be.

At least, it’s all Xavier and Tyler will ever be, or so Wednesday is convinced, if they don’t
start getting their act together. They’re supposed to graduate from High School within the
next eighteen months. They’re supposed to grow up, make some decisions and take the next
step into their lives.

Wednesday finds it hard to believe that the two of them will be able to do so as she stands in
Pym Laboratories.
Despite their connection to none other than Tony Stark and the Avengers, Wednesday still
couldn’t believe that their school managed to organize a field trip for them to visit the facility.
Spots were limited, and only the top ten of their class managed to make the list.

Of course, Wednesday was a shoo-in for the trip. She’s the class valedictorian. Right behind
her was none other than Enid Sinclair, which had gathered Wednesday’s attention. Their
school is highly competitive – all the students need to have certain capabilities to be enrolled,
but she wasn’t aware of the class’ gossip and hockey being second on the list.

Wednesday has always noticed Enid. She’s quiet, or at least in the sense that she doesn’t like
to draw attention to herself. She’s got plenty of character when she’s with her friends, and
Wednesday always knew she was intelligent. Highly skilled in chemistry, physics, English
and hockey, but one of Enid’s downfalls is that she can never pay attention for too long. To
learn that Enid is the salutatorian was shocking, not as an insult to Enid’s Intelligence, but
rather more respect for her resilience.

Wednesday enjoyed watching the rest of their classmates duke it out for spots, while Enid
seemed… worried, and stressed.

It didn’t matter. Her friends, Yoko and Divina both landed a spot, which brings all of them to
now.

She’s listening to one of the employees ramble. He did introduce himself, and he seems…
smart enough, but Wednesday finds that she’s getting distracted by none other than Enid
Sinclair. Over the course of three years, they’ve spoken a few times. Wednesday had always
found the blonde more tolerable than the rest of their class, and… if she was being
completely honest with herself, a part of her even thinks that Enid is cute.

Enid’s pretty, for sure. Anyone would be lucky, Wednesday guesses, but physical traits have
never been important to her. Enid’s attentive, sweet and kind. All the things that Wednesday
isn’t, and for some reason, she’s drawn to that.

Chad looks around at the group, smiling down at them. "Who wants to explain how the
Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle impacts the precision of measurements in quantum
mechanics, and how this might affect the development of quantum technologies?" He
implores, then laughs when every hand in the room shoots up. Divina and Yoko start
elbowing each other, Tyler and Xavier stop their bickering — wanting to be on their best
behavior for a shot at some sort of attention from someone who works for Pym labs.

He looks at each of them. Wednesday can feel the disappointment, a small pang in her chest
when Chad glances over her, and narrows his gaze onto Xavier. He reads his name tag,
“Xavier? Want to take a stab?”

Everyone turns and looks at Xavier, holding their breath. Wednesday knows that nobody
wants to say it, but if he answers it incorrectly, all of them may take it personally.

"The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle means that we can't measure anything precisely in
quantum mechanics, so it's basically useless for developing any practical technology."

Someone groans at his answer — Wednesday thinks it may be Yoko. In front of her, she can
see the way Enid’s shoulders slump forward a bit in defeat.

Xavier stutters at his classmate's response, struggling to change his answer or expand on his
reasoning.

"That's not quite correct,” Chad says gently, being much nicer than everyone else. “The
Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle does impose limits on measurement precision, but it doesn't
make precise measurements impossible or render quantum mechanics useless…. Anybody
else want to try?”

Despite everyone’s collective disappointment in Xavier and his half baked response, nobody
seems to want to volunteer now, which is perfectly fine, because Chad has already chosen his
next victim.

“Enid? Do you want to try to answer?”

She nods. Swallows and looks around at their class for encouragement. Yoko gives her a
thumbs up.

"The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that it is impossible to simultaneously

determine both the position and momentum of a particle with absolute precision. This
inherent limitation arises because measuring one of these quantities with high accuracy
disturbs the other….”

Wednesday gets lost in Enid’s answer. She’s holding onto every word, impressed by the depth
of the answer. Wednesday knows that Enid’s not one to brag about how smart she is, but
Wednesday wouldn’t be surprised if Enid could step in for half the employees at Pym Labs
and do a better job than them.

Enid continues to talk. Wednesday feels a pinch at the back of her neck, causing her to yelp
and curse under her breath, yet it’s still loud enough for Enid to trail off and look at her.

“Sorry,” Wednesday finds herself saying awkwardly, every pair of eyes falling on her. She’s
not sure why she’s so thrown off by a particular pair of blue eyes, “A spider or something just
bit me. My apologies for the interruption…”

Tyler and Xavier are the only ones who are humored by this, laughing at each other. Yoko
gives her a weird look.

Enid Sinclair gives her a sweet smile before finishing off her answer, “…the context of
quantum technologies, this principle impacts the precision of measurements and the control
we have over quantum systems. For example, in quantum computing, the uncertainty
principle can influence error rates and the stability of qubits, making error correction and
decoherence mitigation critical challenges in developing reliable quantum computers."

Wednesday doesn’t think much of it. In the city, bugs and other critters always find their way
into places they don’t belong, even into Pym Labs. She itches at the spot, then tries to go
about her day, ignoring the nagging urge. The only thing she can hope for is that it wasn’t a
brown recluse spider, or a black widow… She tells herself it was most likely just a common
bug.
Before Chad could comment on Enid's answer, the door behind him slid open. The students
turned to see none other than Dr. Hank Pym himself enter the room, carrying a sleek, metallic
device.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he says, his voice carrying both warmth and authority. “I’m Dr.
Hank Pym. I hope you’re enjoying your visit.”

The room falls silent in awe. Everyone knows exactly who he is. Xavier and Tyler's jaws
drop, while Yoko and Divina exchange excited glances. Wednesday observes, her curiosity
piqued.

“Now, who’s ready to see something truly revolutionary?” Dr. Pym asks, holding up the
device.

Everyone, including Wednesday, raises their hands in a daze. Hank Pym is standing in front
of them. He places the device on the table and activates it, and the device starts to hum softly
before a small, metal cube emerges and then shrinks down to the size of a marble. Most of his
onlookers gasp in amazement.

“This is a miniaturized Pym Particle generator,” Dr. Pym explains. “It’s the foundation of
much of our work here. We’re exploring its uses in medicine, transportation, and even space
travel.”

“That’s incredible!” Enid exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder.

Dr. Pym smiled. “And there’s more. Follow me.”

He leads them down a corridor into a large, high-tech lab filled with various advanced
devices and equipment, all of them stumbling after each other to catch up with him – their
excitement bouncing off the walls. Eventually, he stops at a table with several intriguing
gadgets.
“This,” He addresses them, picking up a sleek wristband, “Is a prototype for a portable
quantum communicator. It can send messages instantaneously across any distance.”

Wednesday stares, a little skeptical. She has no doubt in his ability as a scientist, innovator,
but he she finds herself prodding, “How does it work? Quantum entanglement?”

“Exactly,” Dr. Pym answers, nodding. “It uses entangled particles to transmit information
without delay. The potential for secure communication is immense.”

“Holy shit,” Enid whispers, yet loud enough for him to hear her. Wednesday and Dr. Pym
both look at her, and she flushes, “Sorry. I just… This is groundbreaking,” Enid says, leaning
in closer. “But what about the challenges of maintaining entanglement over long distances?”

“A great question. We’re using advanced stabilization techniques involving graphene to keep
the particles in sync. It’s still a work in progress, but the results are promising.”

In the corner of her eye, Wednesday notices a sliver He then led them to a large, transparent
chamber filled with various exotic plants and small robotic insects.

“And here we have our bioengineering and robotics division,” he explained. “These tiny
robots, or ‘nanobots,’ can assist in pollination, environmental monitoring, and even medical
procedures.”

“The possibilities for this technology in environmental conservation and healthcare are mind-
blowing,” Wednesday comments. “Surgeries have the potential to become much more
effective. Some would cease to exist.”

“Precisely,” Dr. Pym agrees, his eyes twinkling. He looks between her and Enid, sizing the
two of them up, “You two seem to know what you’re talking about. Where exactly do you
two plan on going to school?”

Wednesday doesn’t answer. Enid swells with pride as she replies, “MIT.”
He grins, “A great place for someone who understands the implications of innovative
technology. What about you?”

“I don’t intend on going to school,” Wednesday replies quietly, her question stunning him.
“Not right away.”

Despite his obvious shock, and Enid now staring at her, Wednesday feels put on the spot,
wondering if she should have just lied instead. Pym recovers, “Well, the good news is that
MIT won’t be moving anytime soon, and the need for someone as intelligent as you will
always be needed…” He raises his voice as he addresses the rest of their class, “Who’s ready
to move onto something a bit more hands-on?”

Everyone cheers. Enid is still looking at Wednesday strangely.

Wednesday ignores it. Enid sighs.

Dr. Pym pulls out a large, transparent case and reveals a series of intricate mechanical suits,
each one designed for specific tasks.

“These are advanced exosuits,” Dr. Pym explains. “They enhance strength and agility, and
can be used in various fields, from construction to emergency response.”

“Can we try them?” Tyler asks, his voice brimming with excitement.

Dr. Pym chuckles. “Absolutely. Let’s get you suited up. Keep in mind they’re just
prototypes.”

The rest of their class line up eagerly, chatting amongst themselves as Dr. Pym and his
assistants help them into the exo-suits. Enid exchanges a glance with Wednesday, both of
them standing off to the side.
“No college?” Enid mutters.

“What?”

“You’re not going to college?” She asks.

Wednesday looks at her, “Why is it any of your business?”

Enid shrugs. “It’s not… I just – you seem like the type to go and immediately start changing
the world. You’re insanely smart and I know you apply yourself.”

Wednesday would never admit out loud that deep down, one of her biggest fears is that she
can’t change the world. Not in any significant way. She knows that she’s smart, it’s not a
secret, and she knows that if she were to get a four year degree in engineering, or biomedical
sciences, she would have no problem with finding a job.

She can work. She can be put to work on projects, but changing the world? That’s a big task.
A task that’s even bigger than that? Changing the world for good, making it a safer place for
everyone. Making it a place where Wednesday doesn’t have to grow up without her father, or
worry about Pugsley and her mother at every turn.

“I’m taking a gap year.” Wednesday lies.

Enid accepts that as an answer.

They watch as their classmates test the suits, lifting heavy objects with ease and moving with
enhanced agility, their faces lighting up with amazement and joy. Enid laughs when Yoko
gets too confident, falling to the floor with a loud crash.
A chime sounds over the intercom, and a voice announces, “Attention, field trip participants.
Please return to the conference room. Your visit will be concluding shortly.”

In the background of the intercom, Wednesday can hear Principal Weems, “He let them play
with his suits?”

A collective groan rises from the group, Yoko and Divina both dusting themselves off.

“I was just getting started,” Xavier complains, reluctantly removing his exosuit.

“I know it feels too soon,” Dr. Pym says, smiling sympathetically, “But you’re always
welcome to visit again. There’s always more to explore.”

Wednesday scoffs, “I wouldn’t be so quick to invite him back.” Enid tries to hide her laugh at
the comment, but it’s too late – Wednesday has heard it, paired with a glimpse of dimples as
Dr. Pym looks at her curiously.

“Would you be interested in coming back?”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“An internship.”

Wednesday stares. Enid’s mouth falls open.

Chad starts ushering them out the door, not even hiding his excitement that all of them will
finally be out of his hair. Dr. Pym offers his hand, and Wednesday takes it.
“I don’t extend offers for internships often,” He admits, “But I’d be willing to make an
exception for you, Wednesday. And you, Enid.”

“How’d you-”

“I decide on every person who walks through this building, Enid. Of course I know who you
two are, and exactly what you’re capable of.”

Wednesday continues to stare. It’s too good to be true. An internship? Without even lifting a
finger? He goes to shake Enid’s hand as well, and then they’re being ushered out by Chad.

Their entire group begrudgingly makes their way back to the bus, all of them disappointed
that the trip is coming to an end so quickly. Wednesday doesn’t blame them. The five hours
that Pym Labs was opened up to them was nowhere near enough.

Enid glances at her, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “You seemed distracted earlier. Are you
okay? Did I annoy you too much with the whole college thing?”

Yes and No. Wednesday rather never talk about college again, but Enid… she isn’t as
nagging as everyone else is. Despite not being close, they are well known with each other.
Going to school together for the last three years has ensured that.

Wednesday scratches at her neck, shaking her head, “It’s fine. I know it’s weird, not going to
college right away.”

“Not weird,” Enid supplies. “Just a little shocking, from you,” Divina and Yoko start
hollering at her, and she sighs, “Gotta go. Duty calls.” She boards the bus, leaving
Wednesday alone.

Wednesday sits next to Tyler. He rants about the day, getting more amped up with an
occasional comment that Xavier makes.
She doesn’t hear a word. She’s too busy trying not to throw up.

Getting carsick was never something that she’s ever dealt with before, but as the bus
accelerates over the bridge, Wednesday can only uncomfortably press her face to the cool
glass of her window as she tries to fight off the feeling. Despite being dressed appropriately
for the warm weather outside and some of the windows being cracked open for a slight
breeze, Wednesday starts sweating bullets.

It’s disgusting. She needs to get off the bus. Soon, but she doesn’t want to cause a scene by
asking Weems to tell the driver to stop, and she doesn’t want to open her window and cause a
scene that way, either.

She steals Xavier’s water bottle, hoping that maybe having some liquid would help. She
scratches at her neck again, and sighs.

Only ten more minutes. She can survive ten more minutes on the bus, then walk home with
the boys. This is doable.

When the bus slows to a stop in front of their school, everyone jumps up, all in a rush to get
off.

Each step Wednesday takes pains her. She has a migraine. She still feels like throwing up.
She’s overheating. She stumbles down the steps, bumping into Enid, who saves her from the
embarrassment of falling all over the sidewalk.

“That starstruck, huh?” Enid jokes, and Wednesday forces a smile, because, sure. She’s so
starstruck over Hank Pym that she’s stumbling all over the place. “Wednesday… are you
okay?”

“Fine,” Wednesday lies, “I’m fine.”

Enid frowns, but Wednesday ignores it. She gathers herself together, waiting for Weems to
dismiss them. Xavier waits for Wednesday to catch up to him, oblivious to her current state.

He walks her home as he always does, stopping at the door of her apartment complex,
watches her enter before he continues to go down another three blocks for his own.

She doesn’t even do her homework, or cook dinner. She immediately goes to her room and
collapses on her bed.

Later that night, she starts to feel worse. Her mother cooks up dinner, and Wednesday can
only get through two bites without wanting to throw up all over the place, which doesn’t help
with Pugsely’s excited chatter about the field trip to the Aquarium, only making her migraine
worse.

She falls asleep before she can do much, and is rudely awakened by her mother, “Wednesday,
let’s go. You’ve overslept.”

Wednesday never oversleeps, yet the words are little to raise concern for her, in her delirious
state. She simply groans, ignoring her mother’s words and rolls over, pulling the sheets over
her head. Everything is so, so loud, and she’s overheating.

“Honey,” Her mother says, pulling away the sheets, “I’m already late to work. I need you to
get up, we can’t afford for you to miss another session with Dr. Kinbott.”

Wednesday stares up at her mother, who is a flustered mess – a good sign that Pugsley has
been giving her a difficult time this morning. Begrudgingly, Wednesday sits up, despite the
world around her spinning out of control.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Her mother murmurs, kissing the top of her head, “I’ll make your
favorite for dinner tonight. For the weekend.”
Wednesday mutters a response, and her mother is gone in an instant, tossing Pugsley over her
shoulder. It takes all of her strength for her to stand up and take a shower, getting rid of the
thin layer of sweat that has been persistent since yesterday afternoon.

She makes her way to Dr. Kinbott’s office, and arrives only five minutes late.

She hates it here.

Absolutely hates it.

Wednesday slumps into the familiar, overstuffed armchair in Dr. Kinbott’s office, dropping
her backpack to the floor. The room has the calming scent of lavender and chamomile,
undoubtedly designed to put her and other patients at ease, but it’s only ever been an
annoyance for Wednesday. She’s uncomfortable. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be comfortable
in this room. A white noise machine hums softly in the background, but with the migraine
she’s suffering from, it feels like a drill in her forehead.

Dr. Kinbott, sitting across from her, adjusts her glasses and offers a warm smile. It’s the same
one she gave Wednesday last week, and the week before that. Every week for the last four
years.

"Good morning, Wednesday. How are you today?"

"Fine," Wednesday replies curtly, her eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. The minute hand
seems to mock her, crawling forward at a snail’s pace. While she doesn’t ever like to share
her feelings, she has learned that the sessions will go faster if she selects a topic she is willing
to discuss, no matter how small. If the woman across from her has picked on it being a
distraction, she hasn’t mentioned anything to Wednesday, or made any comments about it
interfering with her progress.

Dr. Kinbott observes her, and Wednesday knows she’s picking up on the state she’s in. The
walk of six blocks left her winded, something uncharacteristic for her, and she can’t stop
sweating. Wednesday managed to be dry for all of ten seconds.
"You don't look quite like yourself today. Did something happen on your field trip
yesterday?"

"No, nothing happened," Wednesday answers, a little too quickly.

Dr. Kinbott tilts her head slightly, a subtle indication that she wasn't convinced but wouldn't
push.

Not yet.

"I heard you went to Pym Labs. That must have been exciting. Did you see any interesting
technology? I’m sure that trip was right up your alley."

"Yes. We saw a lot of things." Wednesday tries to keep her voice flat, disinterested.

"Anything stand out to you in particular?" Dr. Kinbott presses gently, leaning forward in her
chair.

"Dr. Pym showed us a miniaturized Pym Particle generator. There were advanced exosuits."

"That sounds fascinating. Did you try out any of the exosuits?"

"No. I let everyone else have their fun."

"That's very considerate of you, Wednesday. It's good to sometimes let others have their
moment." Dr. Kinbott’s eyes are kind, but Wednesday feels a twinge of irritation. She doesn’t
need praise for something so trivial. Wednesday scratches at her neck again, then struggles
with the urge to continue itching the spot, or to stop and allow it to continue bothering her.
"You seem a bit under the weather. Did you get enough rest last night?"

"Not really." Wednesday shifts in her seat, feeling a wave of nausea.

"Anything on your mind keeping you up?" Dr. Kinbott asks, her tone neutral. Wednesday
knows exactly what that means: that Dr. Kinbott has led Wednesday down a path she wanted
her to go, that she’s about to ask a question that just may make Wednesday snap at her.

Wednesday hesitates, her gaze flickering to the window. She thinks about all the events
yesterday. The trip, her and Enid talking, how she feels so bad, and hoped that the feeling
would’ve been gone by now. Outside, the sun is shining – a stark contrast to how Wednesday
feels.

For once, she thinks she may benefit from sitting outside for a few moments. The idea of
soaking up the sun sounds much better than sitting here and discussing trivial topics with Dr.
Kinbott.

"Just schoolwork. And Pugsley was noisy."

"It can be tough balancing everything. Especially when important dates are coming up."

She let the words hang in the air, a gentle nudge. Wednesday stiffens but doesn’t respond
immediately. She stares at a painting on the wall, avoiding Dr. Kinbott’s gaze. Wednesday
knows that she should be over it by now. That she should be able to stomach the date of her
father’s death and move on with her day, her week or even the entire month, but it has been a
struggle.

"Have you had any time to reflect on your father's anniversary? It's understandable if it's
weighing on you."
Wednesday’s jaw tightens. She lies through her teeth, "I haven't thought about it."

Dr. Kinbott nods slowly, "Sometimes, we avoid thinking about things that are painful. It’s a
natural defense mechanism. But talking about it can help, even if it’s just a little bit."

"I don't want to talk about it," Wednesday replies, her voice edged with steel. She doesn’t
want to talk about how the attack on New York resulted in the death of his father, because he
had felt like he needed to play the hero. He should have left all of that up to Tony Stark, but
of course, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand by as the city was being destroyed, and people
needed help.

Dr. Kinbott leans forward, her expression compassionate but firm. "And that’s okay,
Wednesday. But if you ever feel ready, I’m here to listen. We can talk about other things for
now."

Wednesday appreciates the shift in topic, but feels the lingering pressure of the unspoken
conversation. She knows Dr. Kinbott was trying to help, but the thought of delving into her
father's death made her stomach churn. Dr. Kinbott should have known better than trying to
bring it up.

Dr. Kinbott continues, "How about we discuss your plans for the future? College applications
are coming up soon. Have you thought about where you might want to apply?"

Wednesday shrugs, the motion sending another wave of nausea through her."Not really.
Everyone assumes I’ll go to college, but I’m not sure."

"That’s a big decision. What’s making you unsure?"

"Maybe I want to take a gap year," Wednesday lies, the words bitter on her tongue. She hated
the idea of a gap year, but the truth is too raw, too exposed. If she uttered the idea that she
may not even be here in a year, it would raise too much concern in the people around her.
Dr. Kinbott nods thoughtfully. "A gap year can be a great opportunity to explore your
interests and take a break from academics. Do you have any plans for what you might do
during that time? Do you think you may grow bored without applying yourself academically?
I know you thrive in that environment.

"No. Not yet," Wednesday replies, her eyes drifting to the clock again. Dr. Kinbott notices,
clearly. She’s no stranger to Wednesday’s impatience, but she doesn’t say anything about it.
“Perhaps I’ll apply myself somewhere else. I can get a job.”

"That’s okay. You have time to figure it out. Just remember that whatever you choose to do, it
should be something that helps you grow and feel fulfilled."

Wednesday nods absently, feeling a fresh sheen of sweat break out on her forehead. She
resists the urge to scratch at her neck again, the phantom itch driving her mad.

Dr. Kinbott’s gaze softened.

"Wednesday, it’s okay to take things one step at a time. You don’t have to have everything
figured out right now."

"I know," Wednesday snaps, though she doesn’t really believe it. The pressure to succeed, to
live up to everyone’s expectations, is suffocating. “I know that. I’m not an idiot.”

Dr. Kinbott’s voice is gentle as she asks, "Is there anything else on your mind that you’d like
to talk about?"

Wednesday shakes her head, her vision blurring slightly. She feels like she was on the edge of
a precipice, right on the verge of toppling over. "No. Nothing else."

"Alright. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. I’ll see you next
Tuesday?"
Wednesday stands up, feeling unsteady on her feet. Dr. Kinbott watches her with concern,
holding out the slip Wednesday receives from her to get a tardy pass at school.

"Take care of yourself, Wednesday. And remember, it’s okay to ask for help. My help isn’t
only limited to these four walls."

Wednesday gives a curt nod, turning to leave the office. As she steps into the hallway, a wave
of dizziness washes over her. She leans against the wall, taking deep breaths to steady herself.

The world feels like it’s spinning out of control, worse than it was this morning. For once,
Wednesday wishes she could just stop and catch her breath.

Wednesday makes the poor decision to champion on.

She walks herself to school, getting a tardy slip from the front office before she makes her
way to her calculus class. Despite already being late, she hurried down the hall, footsteps
echoing off the tile.

Cursing under her breath, she bursts through the door, her heart pounding in her chest as all
eyes turn towards her. Mr. Thompson, their calculus teacher, shoots her a withering glare
from the front of the room as she approaches his desk, her tardy slip clenched tightly in her
hand.

"Late again, Miss Addams?" he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her teeth grind at the question. He knows exactly why she’s late to his class every Tuesday.
Her mother made those arrangements with the school, and it would be allowed as long as
Wednesday provided a faculty member at the front office with her doctor’s note from
Kinbott, assuring she attended the session, and she would exchange it for a tardy slip.
She ignores him, having done her part. She walks to her seat, cheeks burning with anger as
she feels the eyes of her classmates boring into her back, their silent judgment hanging in the
air.

It’s not the judgment that bothers Wednesday. It’s the fact that this occurs every. Single.
Tuesday.

She settles into her seat, her attention being drawn to a figure behind her — Enid Sinclair.

Her only classmate who doesn’t ooze judgment. Their eyes meet, and for a brief moment,
time seems to stand still as they lock eyes. It feels as if they come to a silent agreement.

Enid's lips curve into a small smile, a flicker of warmth in her blue eyes. Wednesday's heart
flutters embarrassingly in her chest, a rush of warmth flooding her veins as she returns the
smile, her cheeks flushing with even more heat.

The moment is interrupted as Mr. Thompson launches into his lecture, his voice droning on
in the background as Wednesday struggles to focus, something that is atypical for her.

She can feel Enid's gaze on her, and a silent presence seems to linger in the air between them,
and despite her best efforts to concentrate, Wednesday found herself distracted by the thought
of Enid's soft smile. By the shade of blue her eyes are,

As the minutes ticked by, Wednesday couldn't shake the feeling of Enid's eyes on her, a
strange fluttering sensation stirring in the pit of her stomach. It was as if Enid could see right
through her, peering into the depths of her soul with a gaze that was both unnerving and
strangely comforting.

But try as she might, Wednesday couldn't bring herself to look away. There was something
about Enid's gaze that drew her in, a magnetic pull that she couldn't resist. It was as if they
were sharing a secret, a silent understanding that transcended words and gestures.
And then, just as Wednesday began to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of their silent
exchange, Mr. Thompson called on her to answer a question, snapping her back to reality
with a jolt. Her cheeks are burning with embarrassment as she struggles to regain her
composure.

“Wednesday,” He snaps, “Did you hear me?”

Her silence is enough. She stares at him, and he repeats the question, his voice starting to
lowly ring in her ears, "What does it mean for a function to be concave up or concave down?
If the second derivative of a function is zero at a point, what should you check to determine if
it is an inflection point?"

“Concave up means the curve opens upwards, indicating increasing slopes. Concave down
means the curve opens downwards like an upside-down cup, indicating decreasing slopes. If
the second derivative is zero at a point, you should check the concavity on either side of the
point. If it changes from up to down or down to up, it's an inflection point."

Even as she stumbles through her response, Wednesday can’t shake the feeling of Enid's eyes
on her, a silent reminder of her presence.

Despite Wednesday feeling as if she was rambling and struggling to answer the question
appropriately, Mr. Thompson seems shocked that she is even able to verbalize an answer for
him in the first place. With a defeated huff, he continues his lecture.

Wednesday struggles to keep up with the complex calculus equations scrawled on the board,
her pen flying across her notebook as she frantically tries to capture every detail. She usually
never feels this sort of urgency to make sure she’s getting everything, but between her
nausea, and the itching at her neck, she has no idea how she’s still even alive.

With a frustrated sigh, Wednesday tears her gaze away from Enid and forces herself to focus
on the task at hand. As hard as she tries, she can’t shake the feeling of nausea that gnaws at
her stomach, a relentless ache that refuses to be ignored.
The room feels suffocating, the air thick with the scent of disinfectant and stale chalk.
Wednesday's head throbs with pain, a relentless drumbeat that echoed in her ears with every
passing moment. She swallows hard, trying to quell the rising tide of sickness that threatened
to overwhelm her.

And then, just as she starts to think she can’t bear it any longer, Wednesday's vision blurs and
she slumps forward in her seat, her head spinning as darkness envelopes her like a
suffocating blanket.

Voices echo in the distance, muffled and indistinct, as if they were coming from underwater.
Wednesday strainS to make sense of them, but they seemed to slip through her fingers like
grains of sand, elusive and ephemeral.

And then, suddenly, there’s a gentle hand on her shoulder, warm and reassuring. Wednesday
blinks, her vision swimming as she tries to focus on the figure standing over her.

It’s Enid.

Enid, her face etched with concern as she leans in close, her voice a soothing whisper. "Hey,
are you okay?" Enid asks, her brow furrowed with worry. "You don't look so good."

Wednesday tries to speak, but her mouth is dry and parched, her tongue heavy and clumsy in
her mouth. She swallows hard, trying to force the words past the lump in her throat, but all
that comes out is a weak croak.

Enid's expression softened, and she reached out to brush a strand of hair away from
Wednesday's forehead. "It's okay, let’s get you to the nurse’s office, okay?"

“No.” Wednesday finally says, stubbornly.

Enid, who seems like she can play that game, crosses her arms. “Wednesday. We’re going.”
Mr. Thompson interjects, “Enid, she said she doesn’t want to go, let her—”

“Shut up, Mr. Asshole,” Enid shoots back at him, “She looks like she’s about to puke
everywhere, so unless you want her to get your knock off yeezys dirty, I suggest you let me
take her.”

Wednesday closes her eyes, focusing on the sound of Enid's voice as she struggles to regain
control of her breathing. Everyone else laughs at Enid’s insult, so there must be some sort of
reference that Wednesday is missing.

Perhaps a visit to the nurse is the best course of action.

“C’mon,” Enid says, making the decision for her as she grabs Wednesday’s bag, shoving all
of her notes in there. If it were any other day, Wednesday would have snapped at her for
touching her work, and just shoving the paper into her bag, like some kind of savage. She has
folders for a reason. “Miss Stubborn. Get up.”

Slowly, Wednesday stands. Enid grins goofily down at her, and they leave the classroom.

Wednesday only walks a few feet before her feet are leaving the tile beneath her, and she’s
overwhelmed by surprisingly strong arms around her, a faint, faint smell of firewood on
Enid.

Enid grins at her. Wednesday takes a few moments to process the fact that Enid Sinclair is
carrying her down the hall, in strong arms and looking at her with sparkling blue eyes.

“Enid.”

“Wednesday.”
“Put. Me. Down.”

The blonde scoffs, “So you can pass out on the stairs and crack your head open and get blood
everywhere? No, thanks. I don’t need to be the last person to see you alive.”

With how terrible she feels, Wednesday would invite that outcome, but she also dislikes the
idea of Enid having to witness the gruesome sight. Still, she reiterates this, “Put me down,
Enid. Or else I’ll…”

She can’t think of an appropriate threat in her current state of mind, so to prove how serious
her demands are, she pulls on the strings in Enid’s hoodie. She can’t believe that the girl is
wearing a sweatshirt in the middle of august. In New York City. On top of that, Wednesday
can’t believe that Enid doesn’t have a single indicator that she’s overheating.

Enid only laughs. She laughs.

Then continues on their merry way. Enid walks – correction, she carries Wednesday to the
nurse’s office, only confusing the nurse on staff as the two of them. He looks at them, “Oh,
god,” He mumbles, “No broken bones..”

Enid finally puts Wednesday down. Wednesday dusts off her clothes, and Enid frowns,
“Wednesday passed out in calc. I would have thought that it was out of boredom, but she
looks like death.”

“She’s over exaggerating,” Wednesday murmurs. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Uhm, no. She definitely has a fever,” Enid counters. “She needs permission to go home, or
something…”

“I’m fine!” Wednesday snaps, Enid and the nurse both seeming shocked by the outburst.
Enid looks guilty for pestering, and looks down to her shoes, avoiding Wednesday’s stare.
“Sit down,” The nurse demands. “I’m taking your temperature, and you – hey you,” He
addresses Enid, “You’re staying until I decide what to do with this troublemaker.”

Wednesday would sprint right out of there if she could, however, she’s afraid that she may
not get very far with the state she’s in right now. She can feel Enid’s eyes burning into the
side of her face as she stares at the nurse.

With a defeated sigh, she sits. Enid stays and observes, and the nurse seems relieved that she
doesn’t put up much of a fight.

The three of them quickly discover that Wednesday should be back at home, wrapped in
blankets and calling her mother for professional health advice. With a fever of 103, Enid is
instantly more worried than she was a few seconds ago, while the nurse does what he thinks
is the next best course of action:

Call Wednesday's mother.

It’s the last thing that she wants. Against her will, the two of them arrange for her mother to
leave work early and come pick her up, rather than letting Wednesday walk home.

Enid stays, despite Wednesday telling her she can go about her day. They don’t talk much at
all, but her company is nice, if she wants to be honest. Enid’s quiet, and she’s terrible at
hiding how she feels, so Wednesday can practically feel the worry radiating off of her, but
despite that, there’s something fairly comfortable about her presence.

Wednesday assumes that’s natural, since they’ve been in school together for the past six
years.

Eventually, Wednesday’s impatience gets the best of her. That, and her curiosity.
“Why were you staring at me?”

Enid flushes. Wednesday can see the blush spread up Enid’s neck, into her cheeks and to the
tips of her ears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She lies.

“Yes, you do,” Wednesday presses on, “I could barely focus with you staring bullets into me
all morning.”

Enid scoffs, “Wednesday, you can’t focus because you have a fever of 103.”

Wednesday glares.

“Besides,” The blonde goes on, “I wasn’t staring. I was observing. There’s a difference.”

“No, I’m confident you were staring.”

Enid rolls her eyes, “Whatever. Take it as a complement, then. I don’t know. You sit in front
of me, you’re in my line of vision.”

Wednesday sits for a moment and thinks about this. With her fever and other symptoms, is it
possible that she simply imagined it all and she was the one who was staring?

No. Wednesday doesn’t stare.

She doesn’t.

As the clock ticks, Wednesday grows increasingly restless. It’s the second time today that
she’s been stuck in a room with bland walls and nothing but the time slowly slipping by,
killing Wednesday a little bit inside with each tick. Enid is quiet again next to her, and
Wednesday still doesn’t fully understand why Enid is so insistent on staying.

Finally, the door swings open, and Wednesday's mother strides in, her face a mask of worry
and irritation.

She doesn’t waste a single second before her interrogation starts, "Wednesday, what's going
on? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick?" Her voice is sharp with accusation, and
Wednesday winces, feeling a pang of guilt.

"I tried to tough it out," Wednesday mumbles, avoiding her mother's gaze. "But it got really
bad in class."

Her mother sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You should have called me sooner,
instead of waiting until it got to this point. I had to leave work early because of this."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Wednesday snaps, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I didn't mean
for this to happen."

Her mother's eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Well, you should have been
more responsible. I can't drop everything every time you decide to neglect your health."

Enid shifts uncomfortably beside them, clearly sensing the tension in the air. Wednesday's
cheeks flush with embarrassment, her anger mixing with shame. She knows her mother is
right, but she hates feeling like a burden.

How does she balance that? She never wants to burden anyone, never wants to make anyone
stop what they’re doing to help her. How is she supposed to make sure she achieves her goal,
when things like this happen? Her mother would have felt the pressure and inconvenience of
Wednesday’s fever eventually.
"I said I'm sorry," Wednesday mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try to do better
next time."

Her mother sighs again, her expression softening slightly. "I know you will, honey. Just... try
to take better care of yourself, okay?"

Wednesday nods, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She hates disappointing her
mother, especially when she's already feeling so awful.

“Uhm…” Enid starts, clearing her throat softly. “Wednesday was fine yesterday… I think it
sort of just hit her like a truck… and if she has to miss a day or two, she won’t even have to
leave your house. I’ll drop off her homework!”

Both of them look at her. Wednesday’s thankful for the support, thankful for the break that it
provides from her mother’s frustration.

Her mother looks at Enid, “Are you Enid?”

Enid perks up at her name, “Yes, Ma’am, that’s me. Enid Sinclair.”

The conversation dies after that. Her mother thanks Enid for the offer, and says that
Wednesday can always update her tomorrow morning if she doesn’t improve. Wednesday
doesn’t mention that they don’t have each other's numbers. She’ll be damned if Enid shows
up at her apartment.

Enid slips out of the office with a sympathetic glance, leaving Wednesday alone. Moments
later, Wednesday sinks into the passenger seat of her mother’s car, feeling the weight of her
exhaustion settle over her like a heavy blanket. She just wants to sleep. Her fingers twist
nervously in her lap as she avoids her mother’s gaze.

Her mother's knuckles are white against the steering wheel, her jaw clenching with the effort
of keeping her frustration in check.
"I just wish you would take better care of yourself, Wednesday," her mother finally says, her
voice soft with concern. "You're not invincible, you know."

Wednesday's throat tightens with guilt, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She knows her
mother is right, but admitting it would be admitting defeat. She swallows hard, trying to force
the words past the lump in her throat, but they remain stubbornly lodged there, a bitter taste
on her tongue.

“I just… Wednesday, you are not your father.”

There it is. The comparison to her father, how Wednesday needs to stop following in his
footsteps.

“I know,” Wednesday says curtly, her annoyance overpowering her tears for a moment. “I’ll
be better.”

Her mother offers something that’s supposed to resemble a smile. It’s too far broken to be
one. They both know that Wednesday will fall short on her promise. It may not be tomorrow,
or the day after. Maybe not even next week, but the day will inevitably come and Wednesday
will ruin all the progress they’ve made.

The rest of the ride is silent, and when they get back to their apartment, her mother
immediately takes her temperature again, and it only rises half a degree. Wednesday takes her
second shower of the night, collapsing into a pile of blankets after that.

Her mother comes and checks on her throughout the night, but Wednesday never starts to feel
better nor worse, and she sleeps all day the following day.

The next day, when she is woken up by a loud knock at her door, it startles her so much that
she leaps up to the ceiling.

Yes, the ceiling.

And she stays there. Gravity never comes to pull her back to the floor.

What. The. Hell?

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