Beneath the surface || Wenclair

Chapter 1: the wolf's awakening

Note: please make sure to read the entire description I do not want to fool anyone, I am simply full of ideas and have no time to write everything out. If you have any recommendations feel free to comment and I will take them into consideration.

The start of senior year at Nevermore Academy brought a familiar mix of excitement and dread for most of its students, but for Enid Sinclair, it felt like stepping into a pressure cooker. She had turned eighteen over the summer, and according to werewolf lore, this was supposed to be the year she would sense her mate. Yet, here she was, back at school, and she felt... nothing.

Her mother hadn't been shy about her disappointment. She never missed a chance to remind Enid how behind she was compared to other wolves her age. First, she had been late to wolf out, and now, she was late to find her mate. This is your last year, her mother had said, her voice biting. Find them, or I will.

The pressure gnawed at Enid as she stood on the steps of Ophelia Hall, looking at the familiar building and its gothic spires. Despite everything, Nevermore still felt like home. But there was another reason why this place always felt like it grounded her.

Wednesday Addams.

"Are you planning to stand there gawking all day, or are you going to come in?"

Enid snapped out of her thoughts, looking up to see Wednesday standing in the doorway of their shared dorm. Her arms were crossed, her face a picture of its usual deadpan irritation.

Enid grinned, bouncing up the steps. "Excited to see me, Wends?"

"I'd hardly call it excitement," Wednesday replied, stepping aside to let her in. "But your presence has become less... grating. Somewhat."

Enid laughed, brushing off Wednesday's sarcasm. Over the years, she'd grown to appreciate the sharp edges of Wednesday's personality. In fact, she loved it. And though Wednesday would never admit it, there had been signs she had grown more comfortable with Enid too. The biggest indicator? Wednesday had started letting her hair down—literally. When they were alone in their dorm room, Wednesday would often undo her signature braids, her raven hair falling loosely around her shoulders as she focused on her writing.

The two of them settled back into their dorm, their respective spaces unchanged. Enid's side of the room was as colorful as ever, though now there were darker, more muted tones that subtly mirrored Wednesday's aesthetic. Enid had even adopted some of Wednesday's flair—painting one black nail on each hand and incorporating a few darker outfits into her wardrobe. Meanwhile, Wednesday had begrudgingly agreed to wear a small, hidden pink ring, a quiet compromise to Enid's persistence.

Wednesday sat at her desk, turning to Enid with a raised eyebrow. "Are you planning to wallow in silence all day, or is something actually on your mind?"

Enid sighed, throwing herself onto her bed. "It's my mom... again."

"Ah," Wednesday said dryly. "The incessant harpy returns. What is it this time? Your failure to locate your mate, or something equally archaic?"

Enid winced, propping herself up on her elbows. "Both. She's giving me this year to find them. If I don't, she'll 'arrange something' herself."

Wednesday's fingers paused briefly over her typewriter, the clack of the keys stopping. She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing. "An arranged marriage. How medieval."

"Tell me about it," Enid groaned. "She's convinced I'm some kind of failure because I haven't found them yet. Like, who cares? I'll find my mate when I find them, right?"

Wednesday's eyes flickered, but her voice remained steady. "You've always had a talent for disappointing her. Why stop now?"

Enid couldn't help but laugh at that, feeling the weight on her chest lift slightly. Only Wednesday could make her feel better with brutal honesty. "Thanks, Wends."

The room settled into a familiar silence as the late afternoon sun filtered through their stained glass window, casting rainbows across the walls. Wednesday was at her desk, her hair down, focused on her writing as the typewriter clacked steadily. Enid lay back on her bed, letting her thoughts drift, though the nagging reminder of her mother's words buzzed at the back of her mind.

Her eyes wandered toward Wednesday. The sunlight caught Wednesday's face in an ethereal glow, making her pale skin seem even more delicate. The rainbow reflections danced over her features, tracing along her sharp jawline, highlighting the intensity in her eyes as she concentrated on her work.

It felt like watching a scene in a movie—everything around her seemed to blur, except for Wednesday. Enid's vision tunneled, zeroing in on every little detail: the way Wednesday's dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, the small furrow of concentration between her brows, the graceful way her fingers moved over the typewriter keys. Time slowed down, the sounds of the world fading away, leaving only the soft glow of sunlight on Wednesday's features, like a perfectly framed shot.

Enid felt her heart beat louder in her chest, each thud echoing in her ears as if the room itself had gone silent.

And then, like being snapped out of a dream, reality hit her with the force of a freight train.

Wednesday.

Her pulse raced, panic flooding her veins as the realization slammed into her. Wednesday. Wednesday was her mate.

Her best friend. The girl she had crushed on when they first met, but had long since put aside those feelings, settling into the comfort of their friendship. She had been looking everywhere, hoping for some magical spark with someone else. But it had been Wednesday all along.

Enid's mouth went dry, her mind racing. She had always wondered why she hadn't felt the pull, why nothing had ever clicked with anyone else. But it wasn't because something was wrong with her.

It was because her mate had been sitting across the room the entire time.

Oblivious to the hurricane of emotions swirling in Enid's chest, Wednesday kept typing, the clack of the keys the only sound in the otherwise still room.