black marked sun

o.

It starts like this: 

Enid meets Wednesday Addams at exactly 2:58 a.m. on a Saturday in mid-September. There are a lot of things that lead up to this, including Enid’s first ever college party, Bianca and her horrible decisions, and a lot of alcohol. The end result: it’s sometime past 2:00 a.m. by the time the three of them get back to Bianca and Yoko’s shared apartment, both of whom have strictly instructed that Enid will not be going anywhere alone while they are all this drunk. This is how Enid finds herself sitting on their counter at 2:58 a.m., sipping on a mug of coffee in a pathetic attempt to sober up when Wednesday Addams steps through the door.

At this point in time, Enid knows a few things about Wednesday. She knows that 1) Wednesday is the third roommate to Bianca and Yoko, 2) Wednesday is usually always in her room or simply not in the apartment — she is so elusive that Enid has managed to be friends with Bianca and Yoko for a solid month and frequent their apartment multiple times without ever seeing Wednesday, 3) Bianca met her through a pretty shady housing website, 4) Wednesday majors in journalism, and 5) Wednesday Addams is not to be messed with. 

Gathering all of these things together, Enid had figured that Wednesday must be tall. Yoko told her that she was worried Wednesday was, like, a serial killer or something for the first few weeks they shared the apartment, but neither she or Bianca did anything about it because Wednesday is really clean. She must be some really scary, really tall person with tattoos and piercings, and she must carry weapons and have a menacing glare at all times and have the huge muscles that make you look at someone and wonder how much they’ve worked out to get to this point. She must be really clean to cover her murderous tracks. For the past month, this is how Wednesday has looked in Enid’s head.

The girl who walks in through the apartment door… is almost none of those things. Which is exactly why Enid, who’s still sat on the counter and a bit hunched over as she tries to finish some cold coffee she really doesn’t like the taste of, loudly says, “who are you?” 

The girl stops. She looks at Enid. 

“I’m Wednesday,” she responds. Her voice is monotone and even. “I live here. Who are you?”

Enid chokes on her coffee. She feels herself do a double-take, because she’s staring at Wednesday Addams, roommate number three, possible serial killer. 

The thing is that this girl isn’t tall. She’s short. She’s— she’s really short. She doesn’t have any tattoos or piercings — at least not any that Enid can see — and she doesn’t have the huge muscles Enid imagined either. She is glaring, however, and it takes Enid’s half-drunken mind a second to realize that Wednesday is probably still waiting for her to say something.

“I’m— um, my name is Enid. I’m a friend of Bianca and Yoko.”

“Hm,” Wednesday hums, voice still level. Enid has no clue how she’s feeling because she has shown almost no emotion since entering through the door. “You’re the dancer.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I dance. I also do business. I mean like— I’m a double major. Because, um, it was hard to choose. And I like talking to people.” God, why is she even saying this? She literally just met this girl not even a full minute ago and she’s already told her multiple things about herself. Wednesday is just staring at her, and usually Enid is fairly good at reading people, but she still has no clue what Wednesday is thinking. She blames all of this on still being kind of drunk.

“Interesting,” Wednesday finally says even though it doesn’t seem like she’s at all interested, and then she walks over to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. “I’m majoring in journalism, but I considered double-majoring in music-performance before I decided to just minor in it. I found it to be difficult to choose between those, too.”

“I know,” Enid tells her, kicking her legs out a bit on the counter.  

Wednesday turns to look back at her, brows furrowed together ever so slightly. “You were already aware of that?”

Enid’s cheeks flush, and she takes a large gulp of her coffee to give herself an excuse to not answer for a few seconds. “I— um, I know you major in journalism. Because Bianca told me. One time. I didn’t— I don’t stalk you or anything, I mean Yoko told me you don’t even have an Instagram or Twitter or any of that stuff, so how would I even, like,” Enid has no fucking clue why she is still rambling, but she can’t seem to stop. “I also heard you playing violin in your room one time when I was over—”

“It’s a cello,” Wednesday says mildly.

“—and it was really pretty, by the way. So, uh, I just kind of, um, figured.” Enid is a bit out of breath by the time she’s done speaking, and she has no doubt that her cheeks are flushed completely red now. She kind of wishes the ground would just open up and swallow her whole to let her escape from this embarrassment. 

There is a silence that surrounds them for a moment, and then Wednesday’s dark eyes fall from Enid’s face to the mug she’s holding. 

“Are you drinking my coffee?” she asks, and now she seems offended. 

“No?” Enid says despite it coming out like a question, and when Wednesday continues to menacingly stare at her, Enid gulps. “Maybe? I’m sorry, it was sitting in the coffee pot when we got here and it was cold and gross so I thought no one would care, and I was pretty drunk when I did it and I’m honestly probably still a little drunk, I’m sorry.” Then Enid puts the mug down on the counter next to her and hops off the counter. 

She approaches Wednesday, who is standing stock-still, and raises her hand in the form of a handshake as if they’re still in the process of just now meeting.

Wednesday looks down at her hand and then looks back up at her, making no movement. 

Enid puts her hand down and steps back away from Wednesday, screaming internally.

“Okay. Um, sorry again for the coffee. And for this whole interaction. And for staying here. Bianca is asleep and Yoko is in the shower and they told me I could crash on the couch but honestly I might just leave now—”

“Don’t leave,” Wednesday interrupts her. “It’s three in the morning and you are not sober. Something would certainly happen to you and then Bianca and Yoko would be mad at me for letting you leave.” 

A part of Enid wants to ask why Wednesday just showed up to the apartment at nearly three in the morning when she would probably get kidnapped on the streets as well, but one more full look at the girl standing opposite to her and… she decides she would probably be fine.

“Okay. I’m just gonna wait for the shower to be ready, then,” Enid mumbles, and then leans back against the counter, not really wanting to drink any more of the coffee. 

Wednesday is still unmoving, watching her. 

“What did you say your name was again?” 

“Enid,” Enid responds, “Enid Sinclair.”

Wednesday stares at her for another few seconds, and then without another word, she leaves. 

(That’s how it starts.)

i.

When she wakes up hours later, the couch is sticky and hot beneath her, and the sunlight pouring in through the glass windows makes Enid actually feel like her retinas have just been stabbed multiple times. Her head feels so heavy, like her hair is weighing her down, and her mouth tastes disgusting. Enid groans, and then covers her eyes with her arm and wonders what she did to deserve this pain. 

“So you’re alive,” comes a familiar voice from somewhere behind the couch. Enid lifts her head, peering over with squinted eyes. Wednesday is sitting at the tiny kitchen table they have in their small kitchen, a bowl of cereal in front of her as she reads through the pages of a book she’s holding. She’s wearing an oversized black jacket and a black and white striped shirt underneath, and her hair is pulled into two braids like it was last night. Enid thinks this is unfair. She’s clearly in a very vulnerable state right now and should not have to deal with pretty girls like this too.

“What time is it?” Enid asks. Her phone is dead, and it looks like it’s fairly early into the morning, but she has no clue why someone would go to sleep that late into the night and then willingly get up early again.

“Eight in the morning,” Wednesday answers for her, all without looking up from her book.

“Eight in the morning? Didn’t you get here at like three last night?” Enid asks, bewildered. No wonder it’s quiet in the apartment and she feels half-dead. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I don’t sleep,” Wednesday answers, and by the way she casually drops that while turning over a page in her book, Enid has no idea whether she should laugh or be concerned. 

Then, everything from last night comes rushing back.

Going to her first college party. Getting drunk for the first time in her entire life — which was clearly a mistake — and coming back here with Yoko and Bianca. Meeting Wednesday. Embarrassing herself in front of Wednesday several times. 

“God,” Enid groans, flopping back onto the couch. “I’m so sorry about last night.”

“Stop apologizing,” Wednesday responds, annoyed. “You apologized multiple times last night.”

“Right,” says Enid, dragging her hands down her face. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.” 

“That tends to happen when you get drunk.”

“It’s not my fault,” Enid whines, “it was Bianca. She forced me to do this.”

“Bianca forced you to get drunk?” Wednesday asks, and now she sounds— different. Enid doesn’t know what it is. 

“No! God, no,” Enid quickly corrects herself, closing her eyes. “No, that sounds horrible. She didn’t actually force me into anything, she just— she was the one to suggest going to a party to begin with, and no one warned me that the juice had that much alcohol in it and now I feel like crap.”

There is no response for at least a solid minute, and for a moment Enid thinks that either Wednesday has gotten fed up with her and probably somehow left without Enid hearing or is just choosing not to respond. When she opens her eyes again, she realizes that Wednesday is standing right there, right next to the couch and holding a glass of water and something else in her other hand.

“Jesus!” Enid gasps, unable to help the way she jumps in the brief rush of fear she gets. “God, you’re so quiet, I didn’t even hear you move— wow, that scared me.”

Wednesday still doesn’t move. She just looks unimpressed. Enid blinks, and then reaches for the glass of water.

“Aspirin,” Wednesday mutters when she passes the bottle of pills to Enid’s other hand. “I’ve never been drunk, but my roommates have, so I’m knowledgeable in the subject. You should probably eat something as well. I can make you some toast if you’d prefer.”

“Thanks,” Enid quickly downs the pills and the glass of water. “That’s… um, nice. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

“I’m not doing this to be nice. I’m doing this to get you to stop whining.”

“It will get me to stop whining,” Enid says, and then slowly sits up again before she actually stands. She takes a deep breath, thankful she’s not so hungover she doesn’t feel the need to vomit like she’s seen in the movies, and then heads to the bathroom to pee and use the spare toothbrush Yoko told her she could use last night. She makes sure to plug her still dead phone into an outlet with a random charger she finds on the coffee table.

When she returns, there is a plate of toast on the counter. Wednesday is no longer eating but she is still sitting at the kitchen table, looking fairly immersed in whatever it is that she’s reading. 

“Thanks,” Enid repeats, immediately stuffing nearly half a piece of toast into her mouth in one bite because she suddenly feels very hungry. Then she grabs the plate and sits down on the other chair at the table. “That was nice of you.”

Wednesday doesn’t respond. Enid finishes chewing on the large bite of toast she took and really looks at the girl sitting across from her. 

She has freckles. Did she have freckles last night? There are freckles bridging across her nose and covering her cheeks. They’re really nice to look at. Her entire face is honestly really nice to look at. 

Enid blinks, realizes she’s been creepily staring at Wednesday’s face for several moments, and then looks back down at her toast. It’s slightly burnt, and there’s butter on it. 

She doesn’t like silence. 

“WHATCHA READING?” Enid finally asks, and winces when she realizes that her voice was way louder than she intended it to be. 

The only thing that moves are Wednesday’s eyes. Her head is still, but her eyes move to look up at Enid. 

“Sorry,” Enid apologizes, lips curling into a nervous smile. “It was really quiet.”

Wednesday’s eyes flit back down to her book. “I enjoy the quiet.”

“Oh.”

Enid takes that as Wednesday’s way of telling her to be quiet. She stuffs another bite of toast into her mouth. Her whole body feels itchy. She suddenly feels afraid of moving, or of scratching anything, not wanting to disturb Wednesday again with the creek of her chair or her fidgeting.

Wednesday suddenly sighs, closes her book, and turns to fully look up at Enid. “What now?”

“What? I didn’t— I didn’t say anything.”

“Your foot tapping is difficult to ignore.” Enid stops tapping her foot. “You also keep making noises.”

She is? Enid’s cheeks are burning red.

“Sorry.”

“I thought I told you to stop apologizing.”

“S— yeah, okay. Um.” 

Wednesday's eyes, which are very dark and very pretty, are fixated on Enid’s face. Enid swallows hard.

Wednesday finally seems to take pity on her, because she starts speaking after a few moments. “I’m reading a book concerning music theory. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Enid perks up, smiling. “I love music! Like, seriously, music is great. I always think it’s really cool when people can play instruments, and I think it’s great that you can play the cello. I have no musical talent.” 

Wednesday’s mouth quirks on one side. “I thought you were a dancer.”

“I am,” Enid confirms, “I just meant that I can’t play an instrument. Like, at all. I’ve tried. It was horrible.”

“What have you tried playing?”

“Uh, I don’t even remember.” Enid contemplates it for a moment, and then keeps talking. “It was some long instrument in like sixth grade I think? I was literally so bad. But I love feeling and listening to music, even if I can’t create it. I can probably dance to anything if I try. Do you wanna see some cool pictures from this music museum I went to this past summer?” 

Wednesday’s slight quirk of her mouth turns into more of something that could almost be defined as a smile, and— wow, okay, there’s dimples, Wednesday Addams has dimples, and they’re there for a brief second before they disappear as quickly as they appeared, the equivalent of a wink or a shared glance.

Wow, Enid needs to stop staring.

“I don’t see why not,” Wednesday says, and then Enid is skipping toward her phone and unplugging it despite the fact that it’s only at eight percent. 

As she’s in the process of scrolling through her phone to find them (two months have passed since she went and she tends to take a lot of pictures), she follows Wednesday to the couch, where she has moved for unknown reasons. 

“You like music,” Wednesday repeats as Enid continues her search for the museum pictures. “Would you like to watch this documentary about music history? I’ve been wanting to watch it for a few days.”

Enid looks up, smiling wide. “Sure! I’d love that.”

So that’s what they do. Enid gushes about the pictures when she finds them, and she honestly doesn't think Wednesday actually cares, but sometimes she nods along and sometimes she’ll recognize something that’s in the background of a picture and she’ll give history about it and Enid will listen intently. They’re watching some documentary about the origins of music production when Enid suddenly recalls her one and only instrumental concert in sixth grade, and when she tells Wednesday about the disaster that it was, her lips pull into a slight smile and the dimples reappear for a brief second. 

It seems like Wednesday Addams has the kind of smile that is not easily earned.

Enid has always loved a challenge. 

(When Bianca emerges from her room sometime around ten, looking appropriately hungover, she finds Wednesday and Enid on the couch. The TV is on mute. Enid is fast asleep. Wednesday is just sitting there, not really doing anything. 

Bianca opens her mouth, brows raised—

“Not a word,” Wednesday says, eyes glaring sharp.) 

The rest of September goes by without much incident. Enid finds college to be only somewhat harder than high school had been, but that might also be because now she gets bigger assignments with longer available time to complete them but ends up procrastinating till the day before to start them all. For the most part this doesn’t end too poorly — Yoko finds her lying face down on the floor of her dorm room the same night one of her papers is due at one point, but this only happens once — so she doesn’t do much in trying to plan ahead until she realizes she has a calculus test in just under a week and she is completely fucked. 

She’s sitting in the back of her favorite coffee shop at one in the morning, on the verge of tears and collapsing from exhaustion all at once when the bells chime and Wednesday steps in through the door. Enid watches her with a bit of surprise, slightly questioning whether she’s actually losing it because the coffee shop is basically empty aside from her and the two people working here, when Wednesday makes eye contact with her and she realizes that she probably isn’t just imagining things. 

Wednesday approaches her after she orders herself a drink. She doesn’t make a move to sit down; she just stands at her table. This is surprising because Enid would like to think they’re friends now — they’ve only interacted once more since the drunken incident, being when Enid and Bianca were getting into it during a heated game of Uno and Wednesday came out of her room to demand they stop yelling only to join the Uno game and start threatening everyone herself. Enid’s not sure why she wouldn’t sit. Maybe Wednesday has just come to laugh at her failures and then leave.  

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” Wednesday simply asks, and then takes a sip of her drink. Enid frowns, holding her face in her hands and honestly just wanting to scream. 

“I’m just— I have a calculus test soon and I don’t know what’s happening and I’ve always been fine in school without having to study but now it seems like I have to study for this class because I clearly don’t know what’s going on but I don’t know how to study and I’m going to fail and I’m just really freaking out, okay?” When Enid finishes, she is still staring down at the papers strewn across the table in front of her. She probably looks insane right now.

Wednesday completely contrasts Enid when she speaks again, voice calm and collected. “So… you need help studying?”

“I… I mean, I guess so? I don’t know.” Is Wednesday offering to help her? Like, help her study? 

“I’m not offering myself. I can assure you I am not nearly patient enough to teach someone,” Wednesday responds when Enid voices as much. “A friend of mine happens to tutor people, especially in math and science. I have no doubt he’d be able to help you with your calculus dilemma.”

“Seriously?” Enid asks, finally looking up at the girl in front of her. She’s wearing a black sweater and sweatpants and she looks… soft. Or, at least as soft as someone can get while simultaneously looking a bit like they’ll kill you if you turn your back to them. “Oh my God, Wednesday, that would be so great, I—” and then Enid is standing up from her table and rushing forward with her arms outstretched.

Wednesday takes a step back. 

“Not a hugger,” Enid takes notice of, immediately letting her arms fall. “Got it.” When Wednesday just stares at her, Enid bounces on the balls of her feet for a moment before lifting her hand. “Um. Fist bump?”

Wednesday stares at her hand before reluctantly bumping her fist against Enid’s. Enid’s smile quickly returns.

“Seriously, Wednesday, that would be so great. I’d pay him, of course, but if he could help me that would just— my GPA might not actually have to suffer like I thought it would. Thank you.”

Wednesday silently nods. Enid takes a deep breath, and then begins to gather her papers together so she can leave.

“Okay, I know why I’m up this late, but why are you up this late?” she asks.

Wednesday sounds completely serious when she says, “I told you, I don’t sleep.”

Enid frowns, picking her binder up and stuffing it into the backpack she brought with her before pulling it over her shoulder. “Okay, the first time you said that I thought you were joking, but now I’m kind of concerned.”

“I’m not,” Wednesday insists, and now they’re walking out of the coffee shop and back toward campus together (?). 

“So you just… don’t sleep.”

“Correct.”

unknown number — enid 

October 3rd 8:53 p.m.

unknown number [8:53]

Hello Enid, this is Wednesday. 

enid [8:57]

oh!! hi wednesday :D

Wednesday [8:58]

My friend, the one who can tutor you, said he’s free Friday evening and Saturday afternoon. 

His name is Eugene. I can send you his contact information. 

enid [8:58]

omg thank u sm!!! 

and i’ll pay him ofc 

Wednesday [9:00]

What is “sm” and “ofc”?

enid [9:01]

sm = so much

ofc = of course 

also how’d you get my number lol

Wednesday [9:01]

Yoko gave it to me.

enid [9:01]

oh right duh 

but i’m not kidding when i say you’re literally a life savior 

like seriously i was ready to just give up and we’re barely a month in 

Wednesday [9:02]

That would’ve been unfortunate.

enid [9:04]

ik ;-;

Wednesday [9:04]

“Ik”? 

enid [9:04]

ik = i know 

you are not up to date with your texting abbreviations 

Wednesday [9:05]

I don’t usually message people. I prefer to talk over the phone. 

enid [9:07]

oh 

i’d call you but my roommate is trying to study and i think she’ll kill me if i start talking on the phone 

Wednesday [9:08]

Your roommate sounds adequate.

enid [9:08]

haha

but anyway i want to thank you for helping me out with this so,,,

how do you feel about going out to eat? on me

Wednesday [9:09]

I don’t go out much, unless it’s to investigate. 

enid [9:09]

investigate?

Wednesday [9:09]

Journalism major.

enid [9:10]

oh right lol

have i told you i think that’s kinda cool? terrifying, but cool

but anyway it can be quick

like just mcdonald’s or like a chicken place or smth 

ooo have you ever been to that little area with all the food trucks? you’ll 100% find smth to eat there!

Wednesday [9:12]

Is “smth” the equivalent of something?

enid [9:13]

yes! you’re catching on fast

Wednesday [9:13]

Laugh out loud.

enid [9:14]

oh

Wednesday [9:14]

As for what you were saying before… I suppose going to eat wouldn’t hurt, especially if you’re paying. 

enid [9:15]

great!!!!! are you free thursday night?

Wednesday [9:15]

Yes.

enid [9:15]

yay!! :))

By the time Thursday evening arrives, Enid has spent approximately an hour trying to figure out what it is that she should wear. She’s gone through three completely separate outfits and sent mirror pictures of all of them to her friends all for what is supposed to be a quick meeting at a food truck center.

yoko [5:10]

j like the first one better 

bianca [5:10]

idk the second one screams more date classy to me 

i like that one more

enid [5:11]

it’s not supposed to be classy and it’s not a date

we’re literally just going to the food trucks next to campus

bianca [5:11]

girl

yoko [5:12]

wait it’s not a date? 

enid [5:13]

no!! that’s what i’ve been telling u guys!!! 

yoko [5:13]

hmm

bianca [5:13]

(i still think it’s a date)

yoko[5:13]

(me too)

enid [5:14]

>:(

bianca [5:15]

srsly enid. wednesday like, rarely goes out, esp with new people

it’s 100% a date

yoko [5:17]

agreed 

and wear the first outfit

those pants make ur butt look great

bianca [5:18]

ya and throw on the jacket i let you borrow

it’ll literally be impossible to not look gay with all that on, you’re welcome 

enid [5:18]

you both are horrible 

Despite her words, she still goes with the first outfit. 

They agreed to meet at six-thirty. At six-fifteen, Enid leaves her dorm despite the fact that the food trucks are not even a ten minute walk from the north side of campus where Ophelia Hall is. 

Outside, the sun is setting, painting the sky in pastel reds and oranges. The streets are busy, full of people with places to go and things to do. Enid loves the city — loves the business of it, the crowds and the faces and how everything is everywhere. She hated the small town she grew up in with her large family and how everyone knew seemingly everything about everyone. 

Here, it seems like the city is alive. Like it has a heart, a rhythm, and a beat. It’s easy to blend in here, to be normal. 

She welcomes the city with open arms. 

At six twenty-six, Enid is about to pull out her phone to text Wednesday something along the lines of I’m here when she feels someone tap her shoulder. Wednesday is standing behind her, and she’s wearing a black and white checkered shirt with a black bomber jacket on top and black pants. Enid is starting to think that Wednesday doesn’t own anything that has any other color on it except for black and white.

“Hi!” Enid greets, smiling wide. “I like your jacket.”

“Thanks.” There’s a pregnant pause, and then, “it was a gift from my brother.”

“You have a brother? That’s so cool. I have four.”

Wednesday’s brows raise in surprise. “I can’t even imagine. Having to deal with one is enough.”

They’re walking into the little area now. It’s not as busy as it usually is due to the fact that they’re here on a Thursday evening. “It… could get a little crazy in my house,” Enid admits, growing quiet. She doesn’t typically like to talk about her family, especially with people she doesn’t know very well, because then it usually leads to stuff she doesn’t want to get into.

She can feel Wednesday’s eyes on her for a few seconds, and then as if reading her mind, she changes the subject. “Your outfit is very… colorful.”

Enid is grateful for the change. “Yeah, I really like colorful things. Bianca and Yoko helped me pick it out.”

“Bianca and Yoko know about this?” Wednesday asks like she’s piecing something together. “That would explain why they were acting strange before I left.”

“Oh. Yeah. I asked for their help picking out an outfit because I was nervous.” 

They come to a stop in the short line in front of a taco truck after mutually agreeing they’ll both eat from here. Enid is about to turn toward Wednesday and ask her what tacos she’s going to get when she realizes Wednesday is already staring at her, and her mouth is quirked up into that not quite a smile but not not a smile thing Enid has seen her do a couple of times before. “Nervous?” she asks, and it dawns on Enid what she just admitted. “Do I make you nervous, Enid?”

Enid’s eyes are wide. She runs through about three different scenarios she could possibly experience in the span of five seconds depending on her response, but all of those include lying, and she’s never really been one to be dishonest. So, she swallows nervously and says, “yes.”

Wednesday watches her for several more seconds, and then she turns back toward the menu they had been previously looking at on the side of the truck. “Good to know.”

They talk for hours.

Enid finishes the two tacos she ordered almost immediately, which results in her getting another one while Wednesday is still eating her first one. This leads to a conversation in which Enid talks about how she started working out a few years ago to build strength and flexibility for dance, but continued doing it because it’s a fun hobby. Now she has a fast metabolism and eats a lot.

(“Interesting,” Wednesday responds when informed of this, and she actually looks interested this time. 

“Yeah, it is,” Enid agrees after swallowing down another bite of her third taco, “like, in the beginning, I was just a scrawny little stick. I could barely even handle the ten pound weights. Now I can walk on my hands.”

Wednesday’s lips pull back into a smile, and those lovely dimples appear again. That puts Enid at a score of three for how often can I make Wednesday smile? “You can walk on your hands? That’s actually fascinating.”)

It turns out that they actually have a lot in common.

Okay, well, not a lot. Their personalities are vastly different; Enid already kind of figured that one out a while ago, but she feels like anyone could take one glance at them and come to that conclusion. She is all smiles and talks loud and cheerfully, and Wednesday is quiet and rarely lets what she is thinking or how she is feeling show on her face. She’s the observant type, the type of person you wouldn’t even notice in the corner of a room but would know everything about you just from watching you talk for five minutes. 

The common ground: they share a love of similar things. 

The biggest thing is their passion for music. Enid learns that Wednesday, along with being skilled in playing cello, is also a bit of a composer. That’s why she’s heavily into music theory, music history, et cetera. True to what Yoko told her, Wednesday doesn’t really have any social media, but she does upload things to a Youtube channel that is lowkey kind of famous. 

(“You don’t show your face,” Enid comments when Wednesday gives her the name of her channel. She only has to scroll through a couple of her videos before she comes to this conclusion.

“I don’t like people,” is what Wednesday simply replies with. “I feel it’s easier this way.”

Enid nods thoughtfully. “Understandable.”

“Understandable?” Wednesday looks suspicious. “You seem like someone who would love people.”

“I mean, I do love people,” she explains, “sometimes. But people can be mean, so I understand. It’s more so that I love talking to people, I guess? Does that make any sense?”

“It does,” Wednesday tells her, soft but firm like her point is valid.)

Enid talks about how she got into dance when she was younger, how she came to this city from a small town, and about how she was told she shouldn’t double-major in dance performance and business marketing but she did it anyway. Wednesday tells her that her parents fully supported her idea to major in journalism, and she comes from a small family but a large house. She doesn’t speak a whole lot, but when she does, it’s thoughtful and pensive and it makes Enid want to listen to literally everything that she says. 

They talk about those things for a while, and then at some point after the sun has set, Wednesday comments that it’s getting uncomfortably loud near the picnic table they’d sat at as more loud college kids begin to crowd the area. This results in them aimlessly walking in the nearby park while engaged in a debate conversation about which genre of music is better — general pop and k-pop, Enid’s non-apologetic choices, or alternative and classical, Wednesday’s choices. This leads into a game of kiss, marry, kill, which they talk about after getting ice cream at a vendor they stumble across that Wednesday insists on paying for because Enid bought the tacos. Wednesday tries to kill an alarmingly large number of contenders in the game to which Enid has to explain that’s not how this works, until she eventually just gives up.

Then they settle at a bench near one of the lit up walkways, and keep talking.

At some point Enid happens to mindlessly check her phone for the time, thinking it’s probably somewhere around seven-thirty and they’ve been talking for an hour until her eyes catch sight of the white glowing nine forty-two staring back at her and she realizes they’ve been talking for over three hours. Wednesday, undoubtedly catching sight of her face, checks her own phone, only to raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“Wow,” Enid murmurs, “wow, I thought it was like, eight, what the hell?” She has six missed messages from Yoko asking her if she’s still alive in two different languages, two missed messages from Bianca asking her to reply so they know she’s still on a date and not dead in a ditch, and a notification from one of her other college friends tagging her in something on instagram. 

“I too did not realize this much time had passed,” Wednesday voices. It’s then that Enid realizes that it’s gotten fairly chilly as the night has gone on, as fall truly sets in over summer. She’d miss summer, as she always did every year, but she couldn’t help but be excited for what these two semesters would have to offer her. “I thought this would be quick.”

Enid cringes. “Sorry if you had other plans. I know I said this would be quick, but—” you’re really interesting to talk to. I want to listen to everything that you have to say— “I really didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“I’m not necessarily complaining,” Wednesday informs her, “I’m just surprised. I’ve never talked to a single person for this long before. It’s… unusual.”

“Unusual in a good way, or a bad way?” Enid asks, voice a bit lighter than before.

Wednesday hums. “I’m still deciding,” she says, but then she does that familiar quirk of her mouth, and Enid knows what her verdict will most likely be. 

(When they part, Enid feels the overwhelming urge to pull Wednesday into a hug.

She doesn’t when she remembers that Wednesday isn’t a hugging person. Instead, she lifts her hand and curls her fingers to make a fist, and smiles when Wednesday copies her actions and bumps their hands together.)

An hour later, Enid finds herself laying in bed, hair wet from a shower and unable to sleep. 

Her phone lies next to her, full of a recent short conversation with Wednesday that has her questioning some things.

It reads:

enid [10:39]

hii wednesday

did you make it home okay?

Wednesday [10:41]

Yes, I did. I’m glad to see you did too.

And you will never have to worry about whether or not I’ve made it home okay.

enid [10:41]

but you’re tiny 

Wednesday [10:41]

I know how to take care of myself. You should be more worried about the people I pass on the streets rather than me.

enid [10:42]

noted lol

also

i had a really nice time 

thanks for coming out

Wednesday [10:47]

As did I, even though I didn’t think I would. 

But don’t tell Bianca and Yoko. They’ll never stop teasing me. 

enid [10:47]

you’re secret is safe w me :D

Enid reads over Wednesday’s message several times before she thumbs out another response.

enid [10:48]

also… you didn’t think you’d have a good time?

Wednesday [10:48]

That doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just say that because like I mentioned earlier, I’m typically not good at talking to people. I didn’t think it would be like… how it was. 

enid [10:48]

oh

well then i’m glad it went better than you thought it would :)

Wednesday [10:49]

As am I.

Enid ended up typing out a goodnight, deleted it, retyped it, deleted it again, and then sighed and flopped down onto her bed. 

Despite what Yoko and Bianca are telling her… it couldn’t have been a date. 

People like Wednesday (cool, quiet, witty, don’t care what others think) don’t date people like Enid (uncool, loud, can’t cook anything without starting a fire, frequently care what others think). And that’s fine. It doesn’t bother her. She might think Wednesday is attractive in an objective way, and she might also really enjoy talking to her and being in her presence, but they don’t seem like the type of people who would… work. 

(And it’s fine. Truly, it is. Enid has dated two people before. One was her friend Ajax, and they were similar in the way that their personalities didn’t conflict, and their breakup was just more of a we probably work better as friends, huh? And they did, because they stayed friends even afterward. But the more recent one, a girl who will remain unnamed, or just be referred to as dickface, contrasted Enid in almost every way possible. 

She thinks about how it felt when their relationship crumbled and fell apart. She thinks about how it felt when she was told yeah, you’re cute, but you’re just too fucking much, Enid.) 

As Enid closes her eyes and tries to let sleep overcome her, she knows she does not want to hear that again. 

ii.

The day before Halloween, the weather is fitting for the creepy frightesque theme that’s been surrounding Enid for the past several days. It is cloudy and chilly almost the entire day, and sometime into the evening the sky parts and cold rain begins to fall in sheets, thunder rumbling deeply. Enid uses the spare key Yoko gave her to open the door to their apartment, planning on just grabbing the jacket she let Yoko borrow and leaving because supposedly no one else is home, but her plans fly out the window the moment she actually opens the door.

“Shut the door!” Wednesday immediately hisses at her, and Enid frowns but obeys, softly shutting the door. Wednesday is down on the floor, and her hair is wet and sticking to her forehead in the front where her bangs are. The rest of her clothes are also pretty wet, and there are muddy footprints all over the living room. It’s a good thing this apartment has wooden floors, Enid supposes.

“Um,” she starts, voice a bit high in pitch as she chuckles nervously. Wednesday looks a bit frantic, almost completely pressed to the floor and staring at something underneath the couch. If they weren’t actually friends now, Enid thinks she’d actually be scanning her surroundings for any viable weapons in case Wednesday actually did turn out to be a serial killer. “Not to be too blunt, but what the hell are you doing?”

“Lower your voice,” Wednesday demands. “You’re going to scare it.”

Enid pauses her trek over to where Wednesday is pressed to the floor. “I’m going to what.”

Wednesday doesn’t even bother turning to look at her, still pressed to the floor and facing the underside of the couch. Enid’s voice raises in pitch.

“Wednesday Addams,” she starts, about three seconds from turning around and getting the fuck out of that apartment, jacket be damned. “What is underneath that couch?”

“Why don’t you come look for yourself?”

“I really, really don’t think I want to.”

Wednesday finally takes her eyes off of whatever it is that’s underneath that couch to flash a quick glance at her, wearing a small smirk. “It’s nothing too dangerous.”

“I don’t know if that reassures me,” Enid huffs, but she slowly begins to approach again. Then, she slowly lowers herself to the floor, flashes one last glance at Wednesday, and then presses herself far enough to the floor to the point where she can see what it is that Wednesday is staring at.

And there, staring back at her and letting out a hiss the moment it sees her, is a cat.

“Oh,” Enid giggles, partially because she’s drowning in relief since it isn’t like, a fucking raccoon or something, but also because this is kind of funny. “It’s a cat.”

“It’s a vessel of evil,” Wednesday corrects, “it’s a demon that I spent half an hour trying to get into the apartment only for it to immediately dart underneath the couch and not. Come. Out.”

“You probably scared it,” Enid reasons, all while holding a hand out and making a clicking noise with her tongue to attract the cat’s attention. “You’re very scary, Wednesday.”

Wednesday sounds annoyed when she speaks again. “Although I typically enjoy that sentiment, it was not helpful in this scenario.” There’s a pause as Wednesday watches Enid try to interact with the cat, followed by her saying, “don’t let it cut you. I don’t want to see you get squeamish over a little blood and then pass out again.”

Enid’s cheeks grow warm when she remembers what exactly Wednesday is referring to. Halloween has always been her least favorite time of year. “That wasn’t—whatever.”

The cat hisses at Enid again when her hand grows close, so Enid just lets her hand rest where it is. “Hi there,” she coos. “Hi, pretty kitty.”

It takes a minute of whispering coos and numerous things in a high pitched voice in an attempt to coax the cat into calming down, but eventually it reluctantly crawls forward and inspects Enid’s hand. Then, before she knows it, the cat is letting her rub it’s head.

“Ohh, what a good kitty,” Enid says in a baby voice, “good kitty.”

Then eventually, the cat slowly crawls its way out from beneath the couch, still letting Enid stroke its flank. It’s black and has big blue eyes, its fur damp and dirty from the rain. 

Enid thinks she would die for this cat.

(Wednesday sits up so she’s actually sitting on the floor, legs crossed together as she watches the interaction happen before her. Enid’s expression melts into something dopey, something love struck, like she’s never seen a cat before. The cat is purring now, fur wet but still getting away with curling up in Enid’s lap and dirtying the pants she is wearing. 

“Aren’t you just like the perfect little kitty-cat?” Enid coos, scratching underneath its chin. “Yes you are. Oh yes you are.”

How dare you betray me like this, Wednesday thinks, glaring at the cat. She just spent half an hour trying to chase down that cat outside and another half hour trying to get it out from beneath the couch and this is the treatment she gets. Meanwhile, Enid has just appeared a mere five minutes ago and the cat already loves her. Traitorous parasite!

But then Wednesday really zeros in on the expression Enid is wearing, and… she honestly can’t even really be mad at the cat for clearly liking Enid more than herself.)

The cat sits curled up in Enid’s lap now, purring, much to both her and Wednesday’s dismay. It seems to set in now that the cat is still wet. Wednesday is also still wet from where she sits across from her, clothes and hair and all.

“Are you the reason Wednesday is cold and wet?” Enid asks the cat, voice still babying it. “Are you?” 

“The stupid little thing kept running away,” Wednesday growls. 

Enid giggles. “And you still kept chasing it?” 

“It’s cold and wet outside,” Wednesday defends herself, “I wasn’t just going to leave it.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Enid chuckles as Wednesday grows the loudest in volume Enid has ever heard her. Which honestly still isn’t very loud. “I’m glad you didn’t leave it, I’m just a little surprised.” She looks back at the cat. “Hi kitty, this is Wednesday. I know she gives off serial killer vibes, but she’s really a big softie once you get to know her.” Enid ignores the way Wednesday’s face morphs into something that can only be described as disgust at Enid’s words.

“I am not—”

“You just have to give her a chance.”

“—soft. Call me that again and I’ll personally make sure you live to regret it.” 

Both Enid and the cat ignore Wednesday because the cat, as if actually listening to Enid, stares at Wednesday for a few seconds. Wednesday eventually outstretches a reluctant hand, allowing the cat to inspect it, before she softly begins petting down the cat’s back. 

“Have you given it a name?” Enid eventually asks, already in love with this cat and desperately hoping that Wednesday has plans to keep it because she’d die if she never saw this baby again. When Wednesday nods, Enid perks up a bit. “What is it?”

“Thing,” Wednesday says.

Enid blinks. “What.”

“What?”

“You’re naming the cat Thing?” 

“Yes,” Wednesday says softly, still stroking the cat’s flank. “His name is Thing.”

“Okay,” Enid murmurs, partially in disbelief but partially loving it because, in reality, that’s such a Wednesday thing to do. 

(She’s been getting well-informed with Wednesday things recently.)

Enid ends up carrying Thing to the bathroom while Wednesday dries off and changes her clothes, and then together they accomplish the feat of giving him a bath. Enid is thankful that Thing seems to be one of those rare cats who actually likes taking a bath, because she can’t even imagine the disaster that would’ve unfolded if he didn’t. 

“Do you think Thing likes mani-pedis?” Enid asks as she gently holds Thing in place while Wednesday uses a plastic cup to pour water all over him to clean off the soap and grime he is covered in. They’re both fairly close to each other, resting on their knees and separated by maybe a foot of space. 

“Why would you ask that.”

“Because he’s clearly enjoying the bath we’re giving him,” Enid explains as Wednesday reaches over to turn off the water, and then a grab an old, ratty towel to dry him off. “Maybe he likes mani-pedis too. You’re gonna keep him, right? I’ll have to test out my hypothesis at some point.”

“He’s a cat.”

“He’s an angel who will love it when his nails are painted.”

Wednesday scoops Thing up and out of the tub, holding him against herself as he remains wrapped in a towel. Enid thinks this is literally the cutest thing she has ever seen in her entire life. “Painting an animal’s nails can be toxic and harmful to them,” she informs Enid. “I don’t think Thing wants to be poisoned almost immediately after finding a new home.”

“A new home? So does this mean you’re keeping him?” Enid excitedly asks. 

“Of course it does. Do you really think I’d waste an hour of my time chasing a cat only to not keep it?”

enid — yoko and bianca 

october 30th 7:13 p.m.

enid [7:13]

[image sent]

you guys have a fourth inhabitant of your apartment now :D

yoko [7:13]

lmao what 

“You know,” Enid starts after pocketing her phone. Wednesday has released Thing to roam now that he’s all dry. “Thing kind of reminds me of you. Like, maybe not personality wise, but you’d definitely be a black cat if you were an animal.”

Now that they’ve cleared the bathroom, Wednesday has pulled out a spray and some other towels to undoubtedly clean up the mess that is the entry way and the living room. Thing is simply inspecting literally everything he comes across. Enid can’t help but smile every time she sees him; he’s just so cute. 

“I don’t know how to feel about that,” Wednesday murmurs. 

“You should feel great! Thing is cute.” 

Wednesday seemingly has no response to that, because there is a quiet that surrounds them for a minute after that. Enid hums underneath her breath as she helps Wednesday clean the floor, until Wednesday eventually breaks the silence.

“If you were an animal,” she starts, “you’d be a dog.”

“A dog?”

“Yes. One of those really loud and overly excited dogs. A golden retriever.”

“I’d like to think I’d be a wolf,” Enid informs her matter-of-factly.

“No. You’re not scary enough to be a wolf.” 

Enid laughs. They finish cleaning the floor pretty quickly after that, and she’s washing her hands in the sink when she turns around to dry them off and sees Wednesday standing right there, right behind her.

“OH MY GOD,” Enid practically shouts, and then puts a hand to her chest. “You have got to stop scaring me like that, you’re so quiet when you move!”

Wednesday looks pleased with herself. “I find it to be enjoyable.” 

Enid rolls her eyes. 

“Anyway,” Wednesday’s voice grows quiet. “I just wanted to… thank you. For helping me with Thing, and then for helping clean after. I appreciate it.”

“What would you do without me,” Enid smiles. “Definitely be pouty and cute because the cat you rescued didn’t like you at first.”

“I wasn’t pouty.”

“You were a little pouty.” 

“If you mention a single word of this to anyone I’ll cut your throat in your sleep.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” It’s then that Enid notices the time on the top of the stove, and she remembers why she initially came here. “Oh shoot, I have to go, I was supposed to meet my friends like, half an hour ago.” She rushes to Yoko’s room to grab her jacket, and when she passes Thing on the floor, she gently pats his head. “Remember what I said: no matter how much Wednesday scares you, she’s really just a softie.”

“Enid.”

“Ttyl!” Enid waves, and then quickly scurries through the front door. 

Enid’s first college dance showcase falls at the end of November. She’s had many dance shows before, probably over a dozen, but this one feels different.

This one will be in a large auditorium full of parents and siblings and college kids coming in support of their friends. Enid’s own parents won’t be there because they’ve never really supported her passion for dancing — honestly they’ve never really supported anything she does, but she’s not about to get into that right now — but Yoko will be there in support of her and Bianca. She’s never seriously danced in front of either one of them before, even though Bianca dances as well — it’s how she met her and then eventually Yoko through her — so she’s been feeling pretty nervous for the past week. Plus, there are other people she’s friends with that will be there and just… a lot of people there that will be watching. 

Roughly thirty-six hours before the actual showcase, the panic sets in. Panic, even as her roommate takes her out to eat the night before so that Enid has something to eat other than microwaveable ramen. Panic as she goes on a quick run through the park in the early morning, and then when the reminder of the call time of four appears on her phone. Panic when she’s getting ready and getting her makeup done, muscles tense with anticipation as she applies gemstones beneath her eyes in tiny triangles and pink to her lips. Panic as she watches the audience settle into their seats, and then when she watches the first group perform, and then the second, consisting only of upperclassmen dancers. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Bianca whispers to her when the third performance begins. Enid is rapidly tapping her bare foot against the ground; her first performance is next and her feet are going to be bare during it because of the style of dance and holy shit she’s really freaking out. “Seriously. I know I haven’t actually seen you dance before, but I’ve heard all good things.”

“Yeah,” Enid mutters despite not really listening to her words, “okay. You’ll do great, too.”

Bianca pats her on the head and then flounces off. When the third performance ends, the dancers leaping into their final pose when the last stroke of a violin echoes through the auditorium, Enid actually feels like she’s going to throw up.

Despite this, she gets into position when given the cue. 

There’s something about the stage. Its smooth, cold expanse underneath Enid’s feet, the single bright fluorescent ray aiming down in the center of the stage, beckoning her. It welcomes her, accepts her, calls to her, waits for her to give it magic.

There’s something about the crowd, the full-buzzed energy she gets from them, from knowing that they’re there, she’s here, they’re watching. She knows they’re there, but she doesn’t hear the applause, the cheers, and the racket; not really, not when she’s focused like this. They don’t distract her, they anchor her.

There’s something about the music that starts. There’s something about the flow of it all — she’s young, and there’s lightning in her veins and a wildfire in her soul, fueled by the crescendo of a piano and the strum of a cello. It’s what moonlight sounds like reflecting over the ocean; a black swan aloft a clear lake; tidal waves pushing and pulling at a shoreline. 

There’s something about dancing that just makes all of the anxiety, all of the nerves, and all of the panic disappear. 

After both performances, after the showcase has concluded and all of the dancers and performers have changed into more casual clothes, Enid is pushing through the large crowd of excited friends and proud parents when she gets jumped by Yoko.

“ENID SINCLAIR!” she cheers, handing her a bouquet of multicolored flowers and then immediately pulling her into a tight hug, “why didn’t you tell me you were that good? Like I figured you were a good dancer considering you’re majoring in it, but I didn’t expect that! That was awesome!” 

“Thanks, Yoko,” Enid says fondly into her shoulder. 

Bianca appears seemingly out of thin air, and they exchange hugs through the bunch of flowers they’re both carrying. They’re both wearing more casual clothes now, but like most of the other dancers, they're still wearing their makeup. Enid’s hair is still pulled into braids and styled like it was during her performance. 

“Unlike Yoko, I could barely breathe. I didn’t see your solo performance, but I saw the group one you did. It was great,” Bianca smiles. 

“The not-breathing camp was on my side, too,” Enid jokes. The adrenaline rush she received during the performance was great, but the drop afterward has left her feeling a little tired. “During my performances and yours. You really looked so graceful out there.”

They exchange their pride for one another for a few more moments, as well as the amazement they felt watching some of the other performers, before Bianca eventually says, “okay, not to take away from our amazing moments, but I’m really hungry. We usually go out to eat after performances. Do you want to come with us?”

“Sure, I didn’t really eat today because I was so nervous,” Enid admits. “Where are we going?”

“We can stop at the burger-joint by the apartment,” Yoko suggests. 

“Great,” Bianca clasps her hands together, and then looks at Yoko, “where’s Wednesday?” 

“She went to the bathroom after the performances finished,” Yoko replies at the same time Enid says, “wait, Wednesday’s here?”

“Of course she is,” Bianca replies. “She always comes to our things.” 

“She does?”

Yoko snorts. “She likes to pretend like she doesn’t care, but she’s really supportive.”

Of course she is, Enid thinks, but doesn’t have time to say, because then Bianca is waving her arms in the air and yelling over here short stuff and Wednesday is approaching them. 

“I apologize for not bringing you any flowers,” is the first thing Wednesday tells her, and then she glares at Bianca and Yoko, “no one thought to tell me you’d be in this, too. I thought it was just Bianca.” 

“Just Bianca,” Bianca echos, rolling her eyes.

Enid smiles wide. “It’s totally fine! I’m happy you got to see it.” She’s honestly glad she didn’t know Wednesday would be here until now because that would’ve only added to the fuel of anxiety. “Are you gonna come out to get food with us?”

Wednesday opens her mouth to speak. Nothing comes out for a second, but then she quietly says, “yes.”

“Hmm,” Bianca suddenly hums, perfect eyebrows furrowed together as she taps her finger against her chin, “that’s weird, I remember inviting Wednesday earlier to get food afterward and her saying no because she needed time to write. Do you remember that, Yoko?”

“I do in fact know exactly what you’re talking about,” Yoko says, a devilish smile on her face. Enid looks between the three of them in confusion; Wednesday is glaring daggers into them both, and for a moment Enid genuinely wonders if she’s going to murder them. 

“I decided to write beforehand,” Wednesday says through clenched teeth, eyes still sharp and murderous. 

“Sure you did,” Bianca teases, and then the four of them are heading for the exit of the building and out into the chilly autumn air. 

“You looked ethereal up on that stage,” Wednesday whispers to her once they start walking. Enid beams, cold from the weather but warm in her chest and warm in her soul. She knows it isn’t a common occurrence for Wednesday to give compliments, which makes it all the more special when she does. 

“Thank you. You’re really sweet, Wednesday.”

“Don’t tell a soul.” 

“I would never.”

iii. 

Winter break at home passes by in a blur of classic Christmas movies, inhaling her body-weight in turkey and cookies, ignoring pretty much everything Esther Sinclair has to say, and belting out off-key Christmas Carols with the few family members of hers that she actually likes. 

A few days after classes have started back up after winter break ends, Yoko ends their evening study session early when her phone buzzes several times in quick succession, the poorly concealed dopey smile on her face telling Enid exactly who the messages are coming from. Right before the previous semester ended, Bianca made the choice to introduce her friend Divina to both Enid and Yoko, and she and Yoko immediately hit it off.

“When will it be my turn,” Enid whines, flopping onto the couch and letting her textbook fall from her lap and onto the leather. Yoko looks like a lovestruck fool as she stares at her phone.

“Your turn?” Yoko asks while still typing. 

“My turn,” Enid repeats, exasperated, flailing her hands, “to find love! To get a girlfriend! It gets lonely out here! There’s only so much loneliness a girl can take!”

Yoko laughs at her misfortunes, and then to rub the salt further into the wound, she starts bragging about how wonderful her new girlfriend is right in front of Enid’s face. Enid rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop her, curious to know more about what’s happening there anyway. 

She’s half-asleep on the couch when she hears two more familiar voices join the conversation; Bianca is showing Yoko some pictures on her phone that they’re laughing at, and Wednesday is saying something along the lines of you don’t know the full context. 

When Enid lifts herself up to look over the couch, she sees that Wednesday herself is dressed in a large, oversized black coat, nose and cheeks pink from the cold of the January weather, which means she and Bianca must have just gotten back from their grocery shopping trip. She has a stoic look on her face, arms crossed over her chest as Bianca replies with something Enid honestly doesn’t hear because Wednesday just looks so small and cute and huggable.

Wednesday ends up retreating to her room while the other three of them settle in to watch Dance Moms. Half an hour of scarfing down a bag of popcorn and a bottle of soda pass before Enid gets up to go to the bathroom. When she steps out afterward, the other three rooms in the hallway seem to stare at her: a messy but somehow organized room with dark colors and posters, Yoko’s room, a neater room full of things like polaroid pictures and trophies from swim competitions, Bianca’s room, a white door that is only slightly cracked open, Wednesday’s room. 

Typically the door to Wednesday’s room is completely shut. Enid doesn’t think she’s ever come down this hallway and seen it even cracked open like it is right now.

Without thinking too much about it, Enid goes back to the living room to gather her textbook and binder, ignores Bianca calling her out for abandoning them when she was the one who wanted to watch Dance Moms in the first place, and then reaches for the door and gently knocks her fist against it when she finds herself standing outside Wednesday’s room again. She waits before she hears a quiet “come in,” before entering.

Wednesday’s room is monochrome and simple. There’s a brown wooden desk sitting in front of a window covered by blackout curtains next to her bed, and a typewriter, pens, pencils, and papers sit neatly on top. Across from her bed is her wooden dresser, and a framed picture of the entire Addams family sits on the far corner of it. Her bed is covered by a black comforter, and Thing is curled comfortably into a ball on top. In the corner of her room is a chair, a music stand, and her cello propped up against it. There is a single painting above her bed depicting a scorpion. 

Enid never thought she’d feel like this, but she likes the simplicity of the room. It’s different to what she’d usually surround herself with, and the change is nice. 

“Hi Thing,” she greets the cat, flopping down onto the bed and smiling when he moves to curl up next to her, purring when she scratches between his ears. 

“I don’t remember saying you could sit on my bed,” Wednesday says as the sound of her typewriter fills the room with every press of a button. 

“I’m not sitting on your bed. I’m lying on it.”

“That’s not any better.”

“But Wednesday,” Enid whines, “I want to hang out with you. I missed you during the break.” She pulls Thing further to her chest and smiles when he nuzzles into her, purr rumbling softly. “And you, Thing.” 

The click-clack of the typewriter halts for a moment. Wednesday is still sitting stock still, and she doesn’t move even when she says, “Thing missed you too,” before she resumes typing and they fall into a familiar, comfortable silence. 

They texted and called during the month-long break between semesters, but Enid has missed their hangouts, the quiet interactions she’s grown to love. She used to hate the silences between them, the way she’d get twitchy and bouncy and fidgety the moment they’d stop talking. Now they just make her feel calm and relaxed whether they’re talking or not. This is how it usually goes between them when they hang out, whether it’s in Enid’s dorm, Wednesday’s room, the park, or the coffee shop; whether they’re hanging out with Yoko, Bianca, or even Eugene, or it’s just the two of them. Enid will talk about her week and Wednesday will listen, or Wednesday will update her on the case she’s been investigating for the past few months and Enid will listen, or they’ll discuss music and dance, or they just simply won’t talk and just be in each other’s presence. 

She’s grown attached to their interactions and Wednesday’s company.

“I know you’re writing right now—”

“Which you’re interrupting.”

“—but could I stay in here and do my homework? I work better when I’m around others who are also working.” It’s why she and Yoko were working together before Yoko abandoned that activity to text Divina instead. “I swear I’ll actually be quiet, and you can kick me out if I make any noise.” 

There is no response. Wednesday is still typing furiously on her typewriter, and Thing is still pressed comfortably into Enid’s chest. Enid flashes a glance at her textbook that reads as World Literature, and thinks that maybe it would be better if she just left because it’s been pretty clear over the past four months of knowing Wednesday that she values her writing time and absolutely despises being bothered during it.

She’s about to leave when Wednesday suddenly speaks.

“Yes,” she whispers, voice so quiet it can barely be heard even though she has stopped typing. “Stay.” 

“Okay,” Enid murmurs, “I’ll stay.”

Wednesday — enid 

January 24th 1:58 p.m.

Wednesday [1:58]

Enid.

enid [2:07]

yes 

enid [2:23]

?

enid [2:30]

wendy?? 

Wednesday [2:32]

Don’t ever call me that again. 

enid [2:32]

woah how did you italicize your message :o

Wednesday [2:32]

Sheer will.

enid [2:33]

:o

what did you need :D

Wednesday [2:33]

Where are you right now?

enid [2:33] 

uh i just finished a tutoring session w eugene so i’m at the library 

i’m heading back to my dorm rn tho

Wednesday [2:34]

I’m on the way to your dorm. 

enid [2:34]

on the way 

what

Wednesday [2:34]

I have a surprise for you.

enid [2:34]

oh yay i love surprises!! 

wait

i feel like i should be concerned 

should i be concerned ?

Wednesday [2:34]

Of course not.

enid [2:35]

that makes me concerned 

Fifteen minutes later there’s a knock on her dorm room door. Enid gets up from her previous place of being curled up in her bed in a blanket burrito — the heating for Ophelia Hall went out sometime early this morning and only just got fixed, so the entire building is fairly chilly — and goes to open the door, still wrapped firmly in a blanket.

“Hi!” she greets Wednesday and a couple of pretty white flowers. “Oh, nice flowers!”

Wednesday is quiet, staring at Enid’s face with no expression on her own face. She just stands there, remaining motionless and stoic. 

“Wednesday?” Enid asks, briefly considering calling her Wendy again but then deciding she doesn’t want to risk being stabbed when Wednesday suddenly blinks and looks away. Her cheeks are a bit pink, but it’s probably because of the cold. 

“This is for you,” she finally speaks, holding the plant out to Enid. 

Enid stares at the flowers for a long moment. 

Her heart is beating a little bit erratically, a little bit skittishly. This shouldn’t be a big deal — she loves giving and receiving gifts, and flowers are very nice to have even if she can never seem to keep them alive — but this is Wednesday. Wednesday who is gifting her with something, Wednesday who is gifting her with flowers.

For some reason, the action makes Enid’s heart feel like it’s going to beat right out of her chest.

“Thank you,” she eventually says, reaching out to accept the plant as she lets Wednesday into her dorm. 

“It’s a Moonflower,” Wednesday explains, unzipping her jacket. “Xavier dragged me to a flower shop to get flowers for his boyfriend, and although I was repulsed by pretty much everything in there — it was all very colorful — I saw this and thought of you, because I know you love being outside and forestry and the Moon. It’s called a Moonflower because it blooms during the evening and stays open all night, but then closes in the morning when the sun comes up.” Wednesday’s voice is quiet, staring at the flower pot still remaining in Enid’s hands. 

“Wednesday…” Enid trails off. She’s speechless, keeping her body still even when she wants to be closer, closer to Wednesday and her voice and her everything. 

“It’s also highly poisonous to anyone who ingests any part of it,” Wednesday suddenly continues. It’s a small, small change, but Enid has known Wednesday long enough to hear the slight change in her voice, the small wavering within it. “The toxins can cause a variety of different side effects, and it can even be fatal if ingested in large amounts. It’s interesting, really, because some people will still try to use it recreationally.”  

“Interesting,” Enid echoes, feeling equally amused, loved, warmth, and confusion. There are a lot of feelings budding in her chest and she doesn’t really know how to make sense of them. “I really do love it, Wednesday.” There’s a beat, and then, “I-I’m kind of bad at keeping plants alive, but I’ll try my best with this one. Thank you.”

Wednesday smiles, small and briefly like she always does when she smiles, but so, so beautiful. It’s still rare to see her smile, but Enid feels like it happens more often these days than it did in the beginning.

“She brought me a flower because she saw it and thought of me and it was actually an accurate representation,” Enid repeats for the third time the next day, kicking Ajax with her foot until he makes room on the couch, “what could this mean?”

“Like I said, it sounds like she’s a good friend and wanted to be nice,” Ajax responds from next to her, mouth half-full of pizza. He also sounds mildly uninterested, browsing through Netflix for something for them to watch. 

“I’m telling you, she’s not just like that,” Enid replies, throwing her hands up. “She can be nice, but in her own way. Seeing flowers at a flower shop and getting them for the person they reminded you of just because is not a friendly thing for her to do. It’s just— it’s just not.”

Ajax finally takes his attention away from the TV to look over at Enid, brows furrowed. They’re catching up since it’s been a few months since they last really saw each other, and sitting next to her, wearing a loose purple jacket and a purple beanie, Enid can tell that he really hasn’t changed. “If you’re so convinced it wasn’t just a normal friendly action, why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I know it didn’t really mean anything.” Enid slumps further back into the couch. “She’s so closed off and guarded — well she was never really like that with me, but I see how she is with other people — and I don’t want to risk messing something up. She’s a good friend. I don’t want to lose that.”

When Enid peeks up at Ajax, pout full and present on her face, she sees the small, but encouraging smile on his own face. 

“Do you want to talk about her?” he asks. “You can show me some pictures.”

Enid considers her options for a moment, and then sits up a bit and fishes her phone out of her pocket.

“She’s really pretty,” she murmurs, only half-complaining, “it’s so unfair. She manages to make everything look so pretty. She has freckles all over her cheeks and nose and she has really, really cute dimples when she smiles that only appear every once in a while ‘cause she doesn’t smile often. I used to keep track of how often I could make her smile but I lost track after a couple of months because she started smiling around me more.” Enid stops talking to show Ajax a group picture consisting of herself, Wednesday, Bianca, and Yoko; next to everyone else, Wednesday looks short, colors dark and contrasting Enid’s.

“Woah,” Ajax says after taking another bite of pizza, “she’s in black and white. Like a living instagram filter.”

“I do really like her aesthetic,” Enid admits. 

Things go quiet between them for a moment. Ajax turns his attention from her phone to her face, and he looks sympathetic. Enid has no idea why he’s looking at her like that.

Then, “have you told her you have a crush on her?”

Enid immediately hears the fucking Kill Bill sirens in her head.

“I— what?” she asks after she gets over her initial shock.

“What?” Ajax asks, confused again. 

Enid is just as confused. “Crush? I don’t have a crush on her! I was just— the action, the idea of her giving me flowers because they reminded her of me made me curious, okay? I wanted to know what exactly led her to do that because she’s— well, she’s Wednesday Addams, and I know that doesn’t really help you because you don’t know her but like I said that means she doesn’t just do things like this, so that’s why I wanted to know and why I brought this entire thing up in the first place. I don’t have a crush on her. I definitely don’t have a crush on her, and if you met her, you’d know why. Sure, she’s super beautiful literally all the time and she honestly is an amazing person but we’re just so different, we’d never work. It’s just a thing. It’s a thing I concluded a while ago and it still stands. I don’t like her like that. Wednesday is just my friend.” 

Ajax is watching her, horrified. Enid feels herself panting a bit when she finishes, nails digging into the leather of the couch and knee rapidly moving up and down.

“Okay,” he says, eyes wide, “okay, that was…”

Enid cringes. “Too much?”

“I was gonna say really gay,” Ajax chuckles. When Enid just frowns at him, he shakes his head and turns back toward the TV. “Okay, fine, you don’t have a crush on Wednesday. I still think you should talk to her. Now, are we gonna watch this movie or not?”

Later, when Enid is laying on her bed in her dorm and ignoring the rock music playing from the bathroom while her roommate showers, she shuts her eyes and thinks of Wednesday’s smile. It’s not hard; it feels like her smile is permanently engraved in the back of Enid’s eyelids these days.

She thinks: huh. 

(They’re friends, Enid tells herself.

They’re friends in the way that they’ll take late night drives to nowhere in particular, no sounds between them but classical music pouring in through the radio, the budding white-winter world passing by. Wednesday is dressed in a simple black shirt and black jacket in the driver seat and Enid is wearing an orange, pink, and white striped sweater in the passenger seat. When Wednesday finally drops Enid off at her dorm hours after she was picked up, it will take everything in her to actually get out of the car.

They’re friends in the way that they’ll spend hours in a booth at the local diner, eating burgers and sipping on milkshakes, Enid working on homework and Wednesday writing her novel. Sometimes she’ll write music, but only sometimes, and Enid will smile because the girl in front of her is so talented and smart that she can’t help but feel pride for her. 

They’re friends in the way that after Yoko and Enid will go partying late one weekend, after they drunkenly drag each other up the stairs and to the door of the apartment, Enid will immediately seek Wednesday out because she always wants to be close to her even if they aren’t really close because of Wednesday’s aversion to touch. They’ll all talk for a few minutes — Bianca makes fun of them and Wednesday gets them some water, and everything is fine until Wednesday suddenly tenses while Enid is talking to her, staring at something on her neck. It isn’t until the next morning that Enid finds a dark hickey on her collarbone once she’s back in her dorm and thinks, ew. She sort of remembers making out with some random person at the party, but all she can really remember is Wednesday, being near her, being around her. 

They’re friends in the way that they’ll sneak onto the campus theater after hours. Wednesday will play her cello and Enid will dance, leaving her breathless, cheeks flushed, hair a mess when she giggles “one more, one more time, just once more,” and Wednesday will just look at her, face softer than Enid has ever seen it, before she will play music she’s never shown to anyone before. She plays music that sounds like the sun setting on the horizon, something magical and whimsical, something that makes Enid feel like she’s in a dream when she begins to dance again. When she stops this time, when she turns to look at Wednesday, they’ll make eye-contact, and something in the room will shift. Wednesday’s eyes are a warm brown as if they were the wood that could forever burn a golden flame, the soil in the forest after the rain. Come here, they seem to beckon, let me warm and protect you until you fall so deep you forget how to breathe. 

They’re friends in the way that Enid will feel in that moment that she’s in love, but she can’t tell whether it’s with dancing, the music, or Wednesday. It’s possible that it’s all three; it’s possible that nothing outside of that moment really matters.) 

iv.

When Enid has the realization that Ajax was right, that she has feelings for who has pretty much become her best friend during the past several months, it feels like the most simple solution is to ignore it.

She studies for school. She practices dance. She stays up late watching Youtube and listening to her favorite Taylor Swift and Red Velvet songs and tries not to think about what has been deemed as the Wednesday problem, and it works for a while.

It works until literally every single time they hang out, which is like, several times a week. 

It works until she’s texting Wednesday and she gets a message from Yoko that goes—

yoko [3:45]

are you texting wednesday rn?

enid [3:45]

yeah why

yoko [3:46]

it’s just that i’ve seen her smile like one time. ever. but rn she keeps smiling at her phone and i was extremely thrown off 

but if she’s texting you that makes sense

—and Enid won’t respond, can’t respond, because suddenly she feels sick with the knowledge that she’s falling for her best friend and everything she does and it feels like there is nothing she can do to stop it. 

It works until she’s cuddling with Thing while he’s purring and she thinks about how soft Wednesday was when she refused to abandon him in the rain, how soft she always is around the things she really cares about.  

So sometimes she hurts when they’re together and when she thinks about her. But it’s okay because it’s clearly just a small crush and crushes go away eventually. So the point is, it’s fine.

Everything is fine. 

In March, Enid gets a text message near the end of her one p.m. class that makes her heart stop.

bianca [1:37]

hey not to worry you or anything but

have you seen wednesday 

enid [1:37]

not since yesterday morning  

wdym not to worry you now i’m worried?? 

what’s wrong????

bianca [1:38]

last i saw her was yesterday after you left so i honestly thought she was with you but she isn’t responding to any messages or calls so now i’m asking you

idk she’s been kinda off

i don’t think she’s actually in danger i was just concerned

enid [1:40]

okay so

maybe next time DONT start the conversation with not to worry you 

bianca [1:41]

IM SORRY

enid [1:41]

anyway i’ll find her 

bianca [1:41]

aren’t you in class?

enid [1:42]

yeah i just left

bianca [1:42]

girl 

Enid ignores whatever else Bianca says to swipe over to her messages with Wednesday. Their last conversation was from yesterday morning before Enid had arrived at their apartment. Last night she sent Wednesday a meme, but she didn’t respond, which wasn’t exactly too unusual, so Enid hadn’t thought much of it. 

She feels stupid now.

enid — Wednesday

March 7th 1:43 p.m.

enid [1:43]

hey, where are you?

Enid paces outside of the lecture hall for a solid five minutes, wondering whether or not this is even a good idea, until she realizes her class is about to let out and she doesn’t really want the professor to try and ask her why she suddenly darted out with no warning, so she starts walking out of the building. 

Outside, it’s dark and dreary, slightly cold from the remnants of winter but warmer than before as spring sets in. The sky is dark and angry, and it looks like it’s going to rain at any possible second now. 

She still hasn’t gotten a response, so she resorts to calling Wednesday, twice, only to have both calls go to voicemail. She pauses for a moment to think about where Wednesday may be — obviously she’s not at the apartment — so the next place Enid thinks to check is the practice rooms in the music building, which is, luckily, fairly close to the building Enid just got out of class for. She ends up turning up with nothing when she checks all of the practice rooms Wednesday is sometimes in when she wants to practice but doesn’t want anyone to hear her play, usually when she’s writing her own music.

She tries calling Wednesday again as she searches other areas of the music building, but comes up completely empty-handed. By two twenty, she is getting increasingly concerned. By two twenty-two, she is standing on the steps in front of the building and thinking, where could she possibly be? before she’s hit with a sudden realization.

She knows where to find Wednesday.

Then Enid starts to briskly walk toward her destination. She doesn’t run, because this isn’t a romcom or a Hallmark movie, they aren’t in love or even dating, but she also isn’t exactly not running because maybe she’s a little in love and a lot worried.  

She’s breathing a bit more heavily than she initially was when she comes to a stop outside of the city’s small library. It’s the only other library in the city aside from the university library, but the university library is large and well known, so it’s a bit harder to find privacy in there. Wednesday had admitted, once, that she preferred this library to the other one because it was quiet, hushed, and private, even if it had a smaller variety of books to browse from. It was her element, and where she’d go if she really had to think.

She mentioned it once, and Enid remembers. Of course she does. 

Inside, the library smells like sandalwood and warmth. It doesn’t take long to search the place, being that there’s only a front area, the area between the shelves, and a small back room that people can use to study. Enid checks the small back room just in case, but when she finds no sign of Wednesday, she keeps searching in the actual library. 

She finds Wednesday sitting in a soft chair, surrounded by other chairs and bean bags and two small shelves housing books that block her in. She’s wearing her oversized black jacket, and her raven black hair is pulled into her two braids that aren’t as neat as they usually are. Her eyes are wide open as she stares at papers in her lap, backpack sat next to her. She still doesn’t seem to have seen her, so Enid stops to pull out her phone and text Bianca a quick i found her before pocketing her phone again. 

She approaches somewhat hesitantly, unsure whether or not speaking would be a good idea. By the time she sits down in the bean bag directly adjacent to the chair Wednesday is sitting in, Wednesday still hasn’t looked up. 

“Hey,” Enid finally tries.

Wednesday looks up. She has bags underneath her eyes, and she looks paler than usual. Her brows are furrowed like she’s confused, like she only just realized Enid is here as if Enid didn’t make a shit ton of noise trying to get comfortable in this lumpy bean bag. 

Enid frowns. 

“When did you—” Wednesday cuts herself off, and then speaks again. “Why are you here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“It's on silent.”

Enid chuckles anxiously. “You were scaring some people.” 

She watches Wednesday swallow, and then look back at the papers in front of her. “How did you find me?”

“Just… remembered something you told me before,” she smiles slightly, pulling her knees to her chest and then resting her chin on her knees.

“Well you found me. What’s the issue?”

You don’t look alright, Enid thinks, but doesn’t say. Instead, she jerks her chin to the papers in Wednesday’s lap. “What are you working on?”

Wednesday takes a breath, and then glances down. “The case I’ve been working on for months. I’m really close to figuring out what’s really happening. It’s just…” she doesn’t finish, and then she looks back up to meet Enid’s eyes. Her brown eyes are a little red. “Seriously, Enid, why are you here?”

“Bianca texted me,” Enid finally admits. “She was worried about you. And— and as your friend, I was worried about you too.”

Wednesday clenches her jaw, and Enid has to refrain from wincing when she notices the way that Wednesday's hands are crumbling into a sheet of her paper. “So Bianca got a little concerned and sent you on a goose hunt to find me? Seriously? And aren’t you supposed to be in class?” 

Enid swallows heavily. “I skipped.”

“Enid,” Wednesday lets out a little puff of air, clearly frustrated. “I am not a charity case. Bianca doesn’t need to fret, and she certainly should not have gotten you involved.” 

Enid flinches as the words. She tries to hide it, but she’s not fast enough to hide the way her body rears back and her face goes red with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, you’re— you’re right, I shouldn’t have come here, I was out of line, you weren’t answering your phone and I should have just acknowledged that you probably didn’t want to be found. I was just really worried, but I really am sorry—”

“Enid.”

Enid stops rambling but keeps staring at her shoes, kind of afraid to look up and see Wednesday’s face, see her staring at her with some sort of look of anger or disappointment or something worse. She doesn’t stop staring even when she sees Wednesday stand up in the corner of her eye. Instead, she thinks now she’s gonna leave, you made her want to leave, until Wednesday is suddenly sitting next to her in the bean bag, shoulders bumping against each other. 

“I did not mean it like that,” Wednesday gently speaks. Enid furrows her brows together in confusion, but finally looks up from her shoes. Instead of what she expected, she finds remorse on Wednesday’s face. It’s getting easier to read her emotions now. “I just meant that you shouldn’t have skipped your class for me. I’m sorry, truly.”

“It’s okay,” Enid murmurs. All goes quiet between them for a moment, and then Enid realizes that Wednesday is leaning a bit into her, body weight pressing against her like it needs support. They’re rarely ever this close. “When was the last time you slept?” 

“I don’t sleep,” Wednesday repeats for what feels like the millionth time. Enid still hasn’t ever actually seen Wednesday sleep, and it’s really starting to concern her now. 

“Wednesday,” Enid says, firm but quiet, “please.”

Wednesday is quiet for a moment. She pulls her knees to her chest, copying Enid’s position, and says, “two days ago.” Then, in a quieter voice, she whispers, “I can't sleep.”

“Insomnia?”

“Yes.” A beat. “I’ve always had it, but it’s gotten worse recently. I believe it might just be stress.”

“Okay. Do you want to go home? Or we can stay here, since you like it here. Or I could also, um, leave, if you’d prefer. I’m okay with whatever.”

Wednesday turns to look at her. She still looks exhausted, purple under her eyes and red within them, bangs ruffled slightly and a few hairs out of place in their braids. She still looks beautiful. 

“I’d like to go home,” she murmurs, before adding, “and I’d like it if you’d come with me.”

“Always,” Enid tells her, and finds that she means it.

At the apartment, they settle on the couch, sitting with only a small amount of space between them. Enid, for the first time in her entire life, willingly puts on some sort of creepy horror movie because she knows that Wednesday prefers those to any other, and they sit and watch until a mere four minutes in when Wednesday suddenly shifts positions so that she’s laying down. She puts her head in Enid’s lap, slowly and hesitantly like she’s worried Enid will deny her, but all Enid can feel is warmth and euphoria from the action.  

“Are you comfortable?” Enid asks when Wednesday gets settled. 

“Yes. Are you?”

“Extremely.”

Then, without thinking about it, she lets her hands rest on Wednesday’s head, fingers curling into her hair, nails gently scratching her scalp. She freezes when she feels Wednesday suddenly tense, and thinks, wait, what the hell am I doing—

“What are you doing?” Wednesday voices her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Enid quickly apologizes, pulling her hands out of Wednesday’s hair, “I really like it when people scratch my head, it relaxes me, but I didn’t realize I was— sorry.”

“That’s disgusting,” Wednesday mutters. Then, “do it again.” 

“Okay,” Enid chuckles, but puts her hands back on Wednesday’s head, carding gentle fingers through her hair. They sit like that for a while, watching a horror movie that should honestly have Enid freaking out, but she finds that she isn’t really watching the movie.  

“You can take out my braids if you want,” Wednesday whispers, barely even able to be heard.  

Oh, Enid thinks, oh, what the fuck, not even sure if she heard her right because she’s known Wednesday for over half a year and she has never seen her without her signature braids in, so this is…

“Are you sure?” she asks, half feeling like she’s going to explode from excitement but trying to keep herself from fidgeting or moving so as to not disturb the girl laying down with her head in her lap. When Wednesday simply hums, Enid doesn’t waste another second — she gently pulls out the hair ties that are holding both of Wednesday’s braids in place and then begins working to undo them. On screen, some sort of jump scare happens, followed by a blood-curdling scream. Wednesday smiles at it, and usually Enid would be screaming too, but she can’t even find it in her to pay attention to the movie as she lightly scratches at Wednesday’s scalp, working through the various knots and tangles.

She doesn’t even realize Wednesday is asleep until Bianca and Yoko arrive half an hour later, opening the door to the apartment and waving a hey to Enid when Bianca suddenly freezes, jaw dropped. Yoko nudges her and says what before she too really catches sight of what’s happening on the couch and widens her eyes. 

“Is she asleep?” Bianca asks disbelievingly, but keeps her voice quiet. Enid blinks, and then leans forward ever so slightly. Wednesday’s eyes are closed, and her breathing seems even. 

“I think she is,” Enid smiles, but then both of them are taking a step closer and Enid is lifting her head to glare at them, making sure to whisper when she speaks again. “If you dumbasses wake her up I will hurt you. She really needs the sleep she’s getting.” 

“Oh my God,” Bianca whispers, amused, and Yoko just looks delighted. “Oh my God, this is so cute.”

“Hurt us? Clearly you’ve been spending a lot of time with Wednesday,” Yoko teases her. Enid feels the heat rush to her cheeks, but doesn’t respond before the two of them scurry off to the hallway that leads to their rooms, laughing quietly to themselves. 

Outside, the sky finally breaks open, storming through the city, rain falling harshly, lightning cracking through the sky like eggs. Enid smiles to herself; she only feels like the sun is shining down on her. 

Days pass.

Then weeks.

Enid starts texting Wednesday every morning to ask her how she’s slept, if she managed to get any sleep or if she had a rough night. Wednesday is honest with her — she’ll say Slept for almost the entire night or I got a few hours in or Didn’t sleep at all. On the days she doesn’t sleep, Enid will come over early into the morning, sometimes immediately after she’s woken up, and sit on her bed and do homework or watch Youtube while Wednesday lies next to her and sleeps, usually with one of Enid’s hands running through her hair. They never actually talk about whether or not it helps, but Wednesday always smiles at her afterward in gratitude.

(It’s becoming a lot less rare to see her smile.)

It’s April now, and they have just over a month left of the semester until summer. The weather is warm again as spring sets itself in nature, in the blue skies, in the brown soil. Wildflowers rise from the earth, water evaporating in slow waves, flowing to the white-puffed clouds in the sky. 

She can’t stop thinking about Wednesday.

She thinks about her when it rains — how it’s her favorite thing to be inside and hear the thunder rumbling, the rain pounding against windows and rooftops. She thinks about her when she hears violins and cellos while she’s dancing, and then she starts to think about her when she’s dancing even if she isn’t listening to an orchestra. She thinks about her when she sees any monochrome color. She thinks about her when she sees a cat on the street, or even in a picture or a painting. She thinks about her in class, at practice, during clubs. She thinks about her when it’s two in the morning and she’s listening to Taylor Swift and Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo and their saddest songs in a depressing playlist she put together. 

Sometimes she fantasizes. Sometimes she fantasizes about a world where Wednesday would hold her hand, or one where Wednesday would let her hug her. Enid hasn’t tried again since that first time in October, but she knows that Wednesday gets overwhelmed by that sort of stuff, so, it’s fine. But sometimes she just likes to imagine what it would feel like to wrap her arms around Wednesday, what it would feel like to be in her arms. What it would feel like to go on dates and cuddle afterward.

And God, she can’t even dance without thinking about Wednesday. She really can’t do anything without thinking about her. Wednesday has ruined not only dance for her, which is a big issue considering she’s literally majoring in it, but even when she’s in business classes and her teacher gives them an assignment, Enid can’t read over it without thinking something like Wednesday would think this is stupid. 

To put it simply: Wednesday is ruining her life. 

This is not good for Enid’s heart. It hurts to think about Wednesday at almost every waking moment. Hurts in her head, in her chest, in her hands, in her heart. Places that clearly do not hurt in Wednesday, because the odds of her reciprocating those feelings are like, zero percent. She can’t stop thinking about her but she can’t stop hurting while thinking about her, and it’s just not good. 

Wednesday is ruining her life. Wednesday has turned her into a dance major who cannot dance. Wednesday has turned her into someone who cannot do anything without thinking about her.

While desperately thinking of solutions one night, she briefly entertains the idea of attempting to put some space between them, before coming to the conclusion that that would be a horrible idea because Wednesday may not like her back, but they’re certainly friends, and Enid doesn’t want to unintentionally hurt her.

In the end, the solution she settles on seems like the most reasonable course of action. 

*