Chapter 2
v.
The solution comes in the form of a girl named Harley.
Enid meets her on a dating app she decided to try out during her whole Wednesday Addams is ruining my life fiasco, in which she decided that suddenly putting distance between them may not be the best way to go about it, but putting herself out there and mingling with others may help. She and the girl she’s talking to agreed to meet at a fancy club Enid has never been to somewhere downtown. It seems like it might be a little out of Enid’s comfort zone, but she’s always willing to try new things.
She’s going to get over Wednesday. She’s going to get over her.
enid — yoko and bianca
april 19th 8:02 p.m.
enid [8:02]
is this outfit too much?
[image sent]
enid [8:10]
GUYS PLS
bianca [8:14]
sorry i just got home and yoko is with divina AGAIN so who knows what they’re doing
also whether or not that outfit is too much depends on where you’re going
where are you going
enid [8:15]
a club downtown
bianca [8:16]
oh???
with who may i ask????
enid [8:16]
a date
yoko [8:17]
what
miss sinclair who are you going on a date with.
bianca [8:17]
she’s been summoned
yoko [8:17]
shush
also if ur going to a club then that outfit is appropriate
bianca [8:18]
yes agreed
enid [8:18]
just going with another student i met on an app
pretty casual
bianca [8:19]
oh?
yoko [8:19]
okay well be safe and have fun
don’t forget to trust ur instincts
bianca [8:19]
yes listen to your grandma
yoko [8:20]
her grandma??
enid [8:20]
ok i will
and yoko it’s cause u give off grandma energy
yoko [8:20]
what
enid [8:21]
u act old
hate the sunlight
can give good lifelong advice as if you’ve been alive for a long time
knowledgeable in a lot of things
bianca [8:21]
has random back problems despite being 20??
enid [8:21]
yeah that too
yoko [8:21]
wtf
bianca [8:22]
wait i forgot she like hates the sun and basically hisses every time she comes in contact with it
nah screw the grandma energy. u give off vampire energy
enid [8:22]
aksjdhf yes
yoko [8:22]
die
enid [8:23]
love you too :D
Enid sets her phone down after that, ignoring the continued buzzing still coming from it, and stares at herself in her full body mirror.
She inhales deeply and then lets it out slowly, trying to quell her nerves.
She looks nice. Dateable. Not dressed to the point where she comes off too desperate or like she doesn’t care at all, but somewhere in the middle, which is exactly what she’s going for.
She tries not to think about how the last time she was this nervous to go out with someone, she was getting tacos with Wednesday over half a year ago. She tries not to think about how much has changed between them since then, how close they are now. She tries not to think about how Wednesday, someone so strikingly different from her, is her best friend.
She tries not to think about her feelings at all.
The club has a long line to get into and looks considerably larger than what she expected once she’s inside. She’s only been to a couple of clubs before, but this one is bigger, the dance floor seemingly the size of an entire basketball court. There are bartenders doing tricks and lighting things on fire across the long, glass domed bar, and the lights are bright and intense. It’s clear it’s one of those high-end, well off places where Enid probably doesn’t fit in. She thinks about backing out, but then decides that she can’t; Harley is expecting her, and it would be rude to cancel at the last possible moment.
harley [9:47]
hey, i’m at the bar for whenever you get here
enid [9:52]
ok omw
There’s a large amount of people at the bar, and the smoke and flashing lights makes it difficult to see much. Enid still spots Harley fairly quickly. According to her profile, and now in person, she’s tall, has light brown hair, and dresses in light colors. She majors in something smart like astrophysics or something. She isn’t looking for anything too serious, which is great for Enid. When the topic came up through their brief messaging, she admitted to having absolutely no skill in anything related to any aspect of art.
She is nothing like Wednesday Addams, which means she’s perfect.
“Hey,” Enid greets, smile small and nervous when she comes up from behind, “Harley Woods?”
“Yep,” Harley returns, doing a quick glance over Enid, which only serves to fuel her nerves. “Enid Sinclair?”
“That’s me,” Enid replies, trying to keep her normal smile on her face because she’s usually pretty good at talking to people, even those she doesn’t know, but this just feels so wrong.
Harley asks her what she wants to drink, and when Enid just sort of stares at her because she has no knowledge of basically anything related to alcohol because she’s only ever really been drinking at college parties, they settle on shots, and then a couple of bourbon drinks Enid immediately forgets the name of when Harley explains it to her. By the time she’s led to a small booth that’s just big enough for the both of them to squeeze into, the drinks have calmed the thunder in her chest.
They make small talk for a while. Harley is perfectly nice: her eyes are green and relaxed, she listens to whatever Enid has to say, and even makes a few jokes that have Enid giggling partly out of nervousness, but partly because she is a little funny. She mentions that she’s on the college soccer team and talks a bit about that, which encourages Enid to mention that she’s a dancer.
“You’re a dancer?” Harley asks, and Enid nods, staring down at the remaining last few kegs of her third drink. Her head is a big foggy and the world feels slightly tilted, but her chest feels lighter than before. When she looks back at Harley, she sees her smile, sees her perfectly straight teeth and notices that she has a dimple on her right cheek but not on her left; most importantly, Enid notices that she feels nothing like she did when she saw Wednesday’s dimples for the first time.
Stop, Enid thinks, stop thinking about her, you’re going to ruin this, stop stop stop—
Harley puts her hand on Enid’s arm, and she just looks so interested that when she asks Enid, “do you want to dance?” it’s so easy to just say yes.
It’s loud and hot where they end up, the bass heartbeat-slow and something Enid should have no trouble finding the rhythm to. Still, it feels weird, dancing here and now, even when she’s drunk enough to not really feel embarrassed by anything that’s happening. Still, she does it just to do it, mind blurred with a rush of different things she’s trying not to think about. They dance, pressed closed together for a couple of loud and heavy songs before Enid looks up and meets Harley’s eyes. When she sees the question in them, she nods her head before really thinking about it.
She knows before their mouths make contact that this is so wrong, that this is not what she wants, but she does it anyway. She tries it on like a thrift store jacket she wants to have but doesn’t really fit, waiting for it to get settled to see if it’ll work despite knowing it won’t. She lets Harley put her hands on her face and doesn’t really know what to do with her own hands, trying to make herself feel something despite knowing there will be nothing.
When they pull away, Enid is trembling, lips tingling, stomach turning. She leans her head back a bit when Harley tries to close the distance between them again.
“No?” she asks, close enough to be heard over the music, and now her eyes are slightly concerned. Enid hates herself for feeling absolutely nothing for her.
“No,” Enid responds, voice quivering.
And that’s all it takes for Harley to squeeze her hand and ask her if she wants to go outside. Enid agrees, and she follows Harley as they worm their way through the crowd, grimacing every time she’s jostled by the body of a stranger. It looks easier than it feels, walking without stumbling and tripping or getting lost in her own fuzzy thoughts. By the time they’re outside, away from the booming music and the sweat and the heat, Enid’s eyes are stinging.
That wave of nerves from before have seemingly come back full force, leaving humiliation and drunkenness in its wake. She’s so stupid, she doesn’t know what she was thinking trying to do this whole thing, leading on a perfectly nice girl and wasting her time and money only to feel like this. “I’m— I’m sorry,” Enid suddenly apologizes, and watches as Harley turns back to face her once they’re further away from the wide open doors, music and people pouring out onto the sidewalk. “I’m so sorry, I thought that—” she cuts herself off, trying to stop the trembling in her voice, tries to take a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m, I’m sorry for wasting your time, but this isn’t what I want. You’re a really nice person and I think in different circumstances this would’ve been nice, but…”
“It’s alright,” Harley murmurs, “it’s fine. You shouldn’t, uh, force yourself to do things you don’t want to. I’m glad you said something.”
Enid lets out a shaky breath, and then they stand there for a few awkward moments, Enid trying her best to not just completely burst into tears in front of some girl she barely knows that has already put up with her for long enough. Harley eventually clears her throat, before she says something about calling an uber and waiting for it while inside, and Enid is welcome to wait inside with her assuming that she’ll do the same. Enid tells her to go on ahead, that she doesn’t want to go back inside. It’s loud and hot back inside and she doesn’t think she can handle it.
Harley leaves, and Enid watches her go.
Her vision blurs, eyes stinging. It’s drizzling a bit now, the sky starting to cloud but leaving room for the full moon. She wanders down the sidewalk for a minute, further away from the club, until it suddenly occurs to her that it’s late and she’s drunk and she probably shouldn’t be walking alone like this, and so she pulls out her phone.
She sends a text to Bianca and Yoko that reads r eihter of u aawak e, and stares down at the text for approximately four seconds, hands shaking so bad that she can barely even read what’s on her phone, before she’s thumbing through her contacts and pressing call.
The phone only rings once before someone is picking up. “Hello?”
Wednesday’s voice is familiar. It’s dark and monotone and it wraps around Enid like a heavy blanket, safe and warm and something she will always recognize.
“Enid?” Wednesday is a bit louder now. Enid must have forgotten to answer.
“Wednesday,” she murmurs. “Hi.”
Enid starts walking again. Around her are city night lights and groups of friends walking downtown, boisterous laughter coming from a few of them — young people exploring this part of the city, trying to find themselves in the heart of it. She’s always loved the city, but now, in this moment, with the skyscrapers towering over her and making her feel small, she doesn’t.
“Enid?” Wednesday repeats, and Enid can hear the way her voice has changed, can hear the slight worry in it. It’s a minuscule change, a small difference to what she usually sounds like, and most people probably wouldn’t be able to catch it, but Enid does. She can read Wednesday now, can hear her and know how she feels. It’s taken months off building a friendship, being around each other, and getting close for her to be able to do this. “Are you okay?”
Enid inhales sharply, and then she is crying.
She tries to cry silently, stopping her walk to press against the damp brick beneath a small roof hanging overhead where she can avoid people that are passing by, but a few quiet sobs escape her mouth before she can stop them. She’s such a fucking mess, messing up a date with someone and then texting Bianca and Yoko and bothering Wednesday at God knows what time, Jesus—
There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line. “Enid, what’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m—” Enid cuts herself off, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself before she can embarrass herself even further and somehow make this night even worse. She wants to crawl into a hole and never come out. “W-What time is it? Did I wake you?”
“It’s just past eleven. I was awake. What’s wrong?”
“Oh,” Enid sniffles, already able to assume what it is that Wednesday was doing, “I’m sorry if I called you while you were trying to write—”
“Enid. I don’t care about that right now. Please just tell me what is wrong.”
“I, um, I was on a date, and— and it just went really wrong, and, um,” Enid pauses to swallow heavily, but Wednesday is speaking again before she can continue.
“I’ll murder them,” Wednesday says, and her voice is quiet and dangerous now. “Whoever it was that did this—”
“No, no, it wasn’t her, she was fine, it was me, I couldn’t…” Enid closes her eyes. She needs to stop speaking right the fuck now before she says something she’s going to regret.
There’s a moment where neither of them speak.
“Okay,” Wednesday eventually replies slowly, “where are you now? Are you back at your dorm?”
Enid shakes her head even though Wednesday can’t see her. “No, I—I left the club I was at and now I’m walking. I don’t, um, know exactly where I am.”
“Okay.” Wednesday sounds calm, and it helps to quiet the storm in Enid’s heart. She can hear movement through the phone. “Do you know how to share your location?”
Enid opens her eyes. “Yes.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Enid pulls her phone away from her face to click out of the call and share her location with Wednesday, before putting it back to the side of her face. There are a few moments of silence before Wednesday speaks again.
“Thank you. Can you do one more thing for me?”
Enid tries to refrain from telling Wednesday she’d do anything for her. “Yes.”
“Can you look around at the buildings you’re near? Is there anything familiar or open?”
“Um, there’s— there’s a McDonald’s about a block down.”
“Wait in there until I get there, okay?”
Enid starts walking again. It’s starting to rain. She can hear the sound of a door slamming on Wednesday’s end. “Okay.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Do you need me to stay on the phone?”
“No.” Enid’s face suddenly feels hot, chest a bit tight with the familiar rush of embarrassment and anxiety from before. She doesn’t know why she did this. She’s not— she isn’t helpless, she could’ve called an uber or done literally anything else other than call the girl she was supposed to not be thinking about tonight. “No, you don’t— you don’t have to come get me, I can call an uber or something, I don’t know why I—”
“Fifteen minutes. Don’t go anywhere,” Wednesday tells her, and then hangs up.
Enid walks until she reaches the McDonald’s. It’s a bit small inside, and there is only one other person there aside from the few workers. She sort of stumbles to the booth closest to the door, ignores the weird look she gets from one of the workers, and sits down, feeling like there’s a heavy ball weighing down on her chest. The air around her feels stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. She feels nauseous, fearful, anxious, and sad.
Wednesday told her fifteen minutes. In fourteen minutes, the door opens for the first time since Enid arrived, and Wednesday Addams steps through the door. For the first time since Enid has met her, she isn’t greeted that same stoic, emotionless face that Wednesday typically wears to not allow people to know what she is thinking. Rather, her brows are furrowed together ever so slightly, and there’s a downward pull to her lips. She looks concerned.
When her eyes find Enid’s, who’s still hunched over in the booth, arms curled around herself, they immediately soften.
“Enid,” Wednesday murmurs, rushing toward her. Enid stands, a little wobbly, but manages to steady herself before she can manage to embarrass herself even more. “Are you okay?”
Enid hugs herself tighter. “‘M fine.”
“Are you okay to walk? I had to park a couple of buildings down. It’s not far.”
Enid nods, and then without another word, they’re walking. Outside, it’s cooler than before, the night air a bit of a slap against Enid’s face. She doesn’t realize she’s still crying until they’re outside and feels the tear tracks on her cheeks when she moves to wipe her face. They don’t say a single word to each other for the short time they walk — Wednesday opens the old car door for her when they arrive, before rounding the car to slide into the driver's seat. When she sits down, she still doesn’t say anything, just starts the car and puts her hands on the steering wheel, unmoving, silent, and staring straight ahead.
Oh my God, Enid thinks, feeling her heart starting to pick up in speed again as everything begins to set in. This night was supposed to be about moving on, about getting over Wednesday, but here she is after wasting a perfectly fine girl’s time and making Wednesday interrupt whatever it is that she was doing to come pick Enid up. She can’t fucking breathe, so full of humiliation and self-hatred that she can’t believe it. Wednesday still hasn’t said a single word since they left the McDonald’s, and God, she must be mad at her, mad at her for making her come get her like the pathetic person she is, Jesus.
“I’m so sorry,” Enid apologizes for what must be the millionth time tonight. She’s such a fuck up. “I’m sorry for making you come get me, I’m sorry for calling, I just—I was kind of freaking out for some reason and I didn’t really know what to do but I should’ve just called an uber or something, that would’ve made more sense—”
“Enid,” Wednesday interrupts.
Enid’s jaw snaps shut.
“I’m not mad at you,” Wednesday starts speaking. Enid sees her turn to look at her from the corner of her eye, but she can’t take her eyes off of the glass window in front of her. It’s starting to actually rain now, water gathering in large angry droplets against the window. “I’m not mad at you at all. I’m trying to calm myself because I was—” her voice is trembling. Wednesday’s voice is trembling. Enid has never seen her exhibit this much emotion at once. Wednesday takes a deep breath, and then speaks again. “I am trying to calm myself down because I was worried that something had happened to you.”
Enid finally looks away from the glass window toward Wednesday instead. Her dark brown eyes, so dark they’re almost black, are genuine and sincere. They’re warm. They’re safe.
“Okay,” Enid murmurs. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Enid slowly nods. Then, without thinking about it, she speaks again, fingers still trembling slightly from where they’re digging into the fabric covering her legs. “I know— I know you don’t, um, like hugs, but do you— do you think it would be okay if—”
The rest of her words are cut off when her face is pulled into Wednesday’s shoulder. Enid goes completely still, blinking, until she realizes Wednesday’s arms are wrapped around her, and she’s pressing her own face into Enid’s shoulder.
Wednesday Addams is hugging her.
Wednesday Addams is hugging her, and Enid doesn’t waste any more time after that realization before she puts her own arms around Wednesday’s small frame and hugs her back, barely able to keep her tears from everything at bay. She smells nice, like something Enid can’t quite pinpoint the name of, something that must just be Wednesday.
“I don’t like hugs,” Wednesday whispers. “Typically I don’t like them, but sometimes, with some people, they can be… tolerable.”
“Oh. Okay.” Enid sinks further into Wednesday’s embrace, eyes fluttering shut. The racing of her heart has calmed again. “I’m one of those people?”
“Yes, Enid, you are one of those people.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Seconds, maybe minutes, maybe even hours, pass. Enid honestly can’t tell. What she does know is that they sit like that for a long time, so long that Enid begins to feel drowsy after the crash of everything. She feels warm and safe and protected here, protected from the aching of her heart and the sadness deep in her bones whenever she thinks about all that’s happened tonight, whenever she thinks about the Wednesday situation. It’s so weird, so fucking weird to feel like Wednesday is the cause of her sadness and her happiness at the same time.
But here in this moment, enclosed by Wednesday’s arms with the rain pouring against the window, she feels okay.
“Wednesday?” Enid eventually speaks. Her voice isn’t much louder than a whisper.
“Yes?” Wednesday responds. Her own voice is muffled in Enid’s shoulder.
“Can we go home?” Enid asks, without even realizing that what she’s calling home isn’t her dorm, or even her childhood house; it’s an apartment that belongs to two of her closest friends and the girl who has stolen her heart.
Wednesday takes a breath, and then pulls away from her. Enid mourns the loss, but allows it, settling back into her seat as Wednesday looks at her, a small, reassuring smile tugging on her lips.
“Yes,” she says, “let’s go home.”
It’s still raining when they get home, but Wednesday parks in a small car garage that shelters them from the worst of it. Enid showers, borrows some clothes from Yoko, brushes her teeth, and then assures both Yoko and Bianca that she’s okay, she’s fine, nothing bad happened. She still gets a couple of hugs from them both.
It’s well past midnight by the time Enid peers into Wednesday’s familiar room. Her door is wide open, but Enid still knocks for the courtesy of it, and then takes a step inside.
Wednesday is laying on her back above the covers of her bed, arm outstretched so she can pet Thing from where he’s laying near her hip. She’s still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing when she came to pick Enid up, watching her with dark eyes.
“Hi,” Enid whispers, slowly walking into the room, hands intertwined behind her back. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Wednesday asks, seemingly in disbelief. “What an absurd question. I should be asking you that.”
Enid bounces on the balls of her feet. “I’m okay.” She watches Wednesday for a few more moments, tugging her lip between her teeth. Usually when Enid stays over, she shares a bed with Bianca or Yoko, but— “Can I sleep in here tonight?”
Wednesday stares at her for a beat like she’s surprised, before she slowly nods. They switch positions after that — Wednesday gets up to change clothes and get ready for bed, and Enid gets comfortable in her bed, settling on the side closest to the wall. Her sheets are black just like almost everything else in her room, and they smell like earth and lavender and familiarity.
Only a few minutes pass before Wednesday returns. Her hair is loose and falls down her back in beautiful black waves, and she’s wearing baggy clothes meant for sleeping. She shuts the door, turns off the lights, and climbs into bed with Enid. When she pulls the blankets up to cover them both, all goes quiet between them.
The bed is kind of small, which means there is very minimal space between them. As Enid’s eyes adjust to the darkness that they’ve found themselves in, she sees that Wednesday is copying her position, laying on her side and facing Enid, face relaxed, eyes wide open. Her lips part as if she’s going to say something, but nothing comes out.
Enid speaks first. “What is it?”
The rain starts up again outside, rattling the window like it’s seeking out the warmth of the bed. Wednesday studies her face for several moments before she finally speaks.
“You’re such a happy person,” she begins, instead of anything that Enid thought she was going to say. “You’re always so… you. Cheerful, loving, and it’s wonderful. I view the world with pessimism, and I never understood how it could be viewed otherwise, but you view it in a completely different light. You’re optimistic, hopeful, and it’s been… a beautiful thing to witness in these past several months.” Wednesday pauses, and then continues. “It has always brought me immense pleasure to see others upset, but if anything, I feel the complete opposite when I see you upset. It’s torturous for me to see you unhappy, and not in a good way.”
Enid’s eyes are wide. “Oh.”
“What I’m trying to convey to you is that, the self-loathing and guilt I’m sure you felt earlier, let it go. I’m glad you called me, and there is no reason to feel bad for it. You can always call me, Enid. I don’t care what time it is or where you are or where I am. I’ll always… are you crying?”
“No,” Enid blubbers, right as her face crumples and her eyes scrunch up and she brings her hands to her face as she begins to cry again.
“I apologize,” Wednesday immediately says, voice slightly higher in pitch in growing panic. “It was not my intention to make you cry, I was trying to reassure you that— Enid, I—”
“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” Enid interrupts, hiccuping a bit, words only slightly incoherent, “I mean, I am still sad, but— I’m crying because I feel so… loved, I think? Like, I don’t know, no one’s ever said things like that to me and I just… I’m sorry, it’s been a really long night.” She stops to take a deep breath. “Wednesday, thank you, for your words and for coming to pick me up today and for just… everything. Thank you.”
Wednesday blinks.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
One of Enid’s hands reaches out and finds Wednesday’s hand, brushing their knuckles together. Wednesday doesn’t pull away. “I want to.”
It’s quiet again. Enid stares at their hands, pressed against each other’s. Wednesday’s hands are freezing. Enid wants to intertwine their fingers.
“Do you want to tell me why you’re sad?”
Enid sucks in a deep breath, heart dropping.
Tell her, a voice says. She won’t hate you. She’ll understand.
Don’t, another voice says. It’ll ruin everything.
“I can’t,” she whispers.
Wednesday nods. “Then is there anything I can do to help make it go away?”
Enid closes her eyes, fingernails digging into the black sheets, jaw clenching. She wrestles with her thoughts for a moment before responding.
“Could I… come over there?”
When she opens her eyes again, it’s because there is rustling among the bed sheets. Wednesday is shifting around onto her back, legs brushing against Enid’s for a brief moment in what’s probably an attempt to get comfortable. After a moment, Wednesday stops moving around, and then opens up her arms and says, “okay, come here.”
Then Enid is gingerly scooting closer, tucking herself into Wednesday’s side, nose pressing into her collarbone. Their legs press against each other, and Enid shivers; Wednesday is cold all over, a stark contrast to her own temperature.
Their bodies seem to align in the perfect way: her arm drapes over Wednesday’s stomach, Wednesday’s chin tucks on top of her head. There’s a moment where neither of them move, and then Enid feels Wednesday’s hand come up to rest on her head before there are fingers carding through her hair. Her eyes fall shut, and she gives a full body shiver at the feeling.
“You’re very warm,” Wednesday observes. Without really thinking about it, Enid curls further into her.
Right here, right now in this moment, she feels like everything could be okay. It feels like nothing outside of this room exists except for them. It’s just them and their gentle heartbeats, the soft, steady breaths they’re letting out like sleepy metronomes. There’s no real world with real problems like college and family issues and the Wednesday situation. Right now, if she doesn’t think about it, it’s okay.
“Can you talk to me?” Enid mumbles. “I don’t want it to be quiet right now.”
“Of course.” Wednesday’s voice is whispered. “What would you like me to talk about?”
“Anything.”
Enid feels more than she sees Wednesday nod, and then all goes quiet as Wednesday thinks before saying, “my middle name is Friday.”
There’s a beat where it seems to have to register to Enid what exactly Wednesday is saying, and then—
“WEDNESDAY FRIDAY?”
Wednesday’s hand stills in Enid’s hair. “Enid.”
“Sorry,” Enid giggles, “it’s just— your parents named you Wednesday Friday Addams?”
“That they did,” Wednesday resumes running her fingers through Enid’s hair. “I was named after my mother’s favorite nursery rhyme. Wednesday’s child is full of woe is the quote she took from it, and I suppose she found it fitting. I certainly do.”
Enid hums, eyes fluttering shut. “What about Friday?”
“Hm?”
“If Wednesday has a quote, what is Friday’s?”
Wednesday is quiet. Enid lifts her head to peer at her, and finds her staring silently at the ceiling before she murmurs, “Friday’s child is loving and giving.”
“Oh,” Enid smiles. Feeling the drowsiness and exhaustion from tonight’s events begin to seep into her bones, she lowers her head to rest back on Wednesday’s shoulder, pressing her face into her neck this time, and mumbles, “I think that one is fitting.”
“You would,” Wednesday says like she’s annoyed, but her voice is so soft, and so fond.
She keeps talking, and Enid keeps listening.
vi.
Enid wakes slowly, like emerging from underwater after a deep dive. The blankets feel warm and soft around her, and there is a warm body pressed against her own in the dim of a room, cocooning her in a ring of safety. She blinks her eyes open and takes a few seconds to remember where she is, before she realizes she must have turned on her side at some point during the night because now she’s laying facing the wall. A few golden rays of sunlight manage to spill through the blinds and Wednesday’s blackout curtains, which must not have been completely closed.
Enid rolls over in the bed and comes face to face with a sleepy Wednesday.
She’s still lying on her back, hair in a bit of a disarray, eyes hazy like she too has just woken up. Enid just stares at her for a few seconds, fascinated with the way the sunlight plays off of her freckles, how open and unguarded she looks in this moment with just the two of them.
It’s an incredibly rare sight to behold.
“You’re restless even in your sleep,” Wednesday murmurs, craning her head to glance over at the other girl. Enid smiles apologetically.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Only once,” Wednesday tells her, “but I fell back asleep rather quickly. Actually, aside from that, I slept for the entire night.”
“Oh,” Enid’s smile widens, “that’s great, Wednesday! I’m so happy for you.”
Wednesday watches her for a few moments with soft eyes, and then she’s shuffling around a bit to reach for her phone (her old, barely working smartphone from like ten years ago that she still has). Enid sees the time when Wednesday turns it on; it’s just past nine in the morning. Before either one of them can say anything else, someone is knocking on the bedroom door.
“Are you two alive in there?” comes Bianca’s voice; in the background, Yoko can be heard saying something else. Enid smiles, and turns her head to look back at Wednesday to see her reaction.
Wednesday is scowling. “What do you imbeciles want?”
“We’re going to make breakfast if you’d like to resurface from the depths of hell or wherever it is you go when you sleep,” Bianca returns the banter, and then shifts the conversation, “and good morning, Enid!”
“Good morning,” Enid calls, smile wide as she watches Wednesday scoff. “We’ll be out soon.”
Bianca must leave, because there is no response after that. The two of them just lay there for a while, legs pressed against each other underneath the sheets, Enid on her side and facing Wednesday, Wednesday laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. There’s a comfortable silence that rests easily between them, and Enid soaks up every minute of it. It feels peaceful; it feels lived in.
They actually do get up about ten minutes later when they hear a scream in the kitchen — Wednesday says something about wanting to make sure their kitchen isn’t destroyed again — which proves to be a futile wish, because the attempt made on breakfast is a disaster. The only thing that appears to have been made are a few pancakes, but there is batter on the floor and the ones that actually made it to the pan are burnt.
Yoko, presumably the one who was cooking, is staring at her failure in distraught. Bianca is muffling her mouth with the back of her hand to keep from bursting into laughter. Divina, who must have gotten here recently, is staring at her girlfriend in amusement before she turns her attention to Enid and Wednesday, and then smiles and waves in greeting. Wednesday looks completely unsurprised.
“Grandmas are supposed to be able to cook well,” Bianca comments sarcastically. “Guess this is the end of grandma Yoko reign.”
Enid bursts into a fit of giggles.
Wednesday ends up insisting on going to get something for breakfast at the corner store so the five of them can avoid obtaining botulism or some sort of other food poisoning because of Yoko’s cooking. Yoko just continues to stare at her failure in dismay, to which Enid sympathetically pats her shoulder because she too can’t seem to cook anything without risk of burning the apartment down.
Enid ends up tagging along with Wednesday to the corner store. They leave after they change their clothes, brush their teeth, and Wednesday puts her hair back into her two braids. Enid borrows a t-shirt and cotton shorts from Yoko again because most of Wednesday’s clothes are probably too small for her, but Wednesday lends her her oversized black jacket, and Enid kind of melts into it.
On the short walk to the corner store, Enid finds herself skipping ahead of Wednesday, making fun of her for being short and walking slowly behind her, and then skipping away again every time Wednesday reaches her. Wednesday tries to look annoyed, but Enid can see the way her mouth curls up ever so slightly; the fondness in her eyes. They end up actually separating once they get there — Wednesday gets the, according to herself, real, necessary food like tacos and granola bars, while Enid gets a couple of bags of gummy bears and some pop tarts. She reunites with Wednesday, who eyes her choices with mild disgust, and then makes Enid hold everything that she was carrying.
But then she ends up buying Enid a Skittle flavored sugary drink, so Enid puts up with being used as nothing more than a shopping cart as she continues to follow Wednesday around the little store.
She feels… happy, being here. It used to make her heart ache, bring her sadness, to be in Wednesday’s presence and think, she’d hate you if she ever knew what you felt for her. You two would never work out. But now, it feels okay. Enid might not ever be able to be with Wednesday the way she truly wishes she could be, but that’s okay, because she’s just glad she gets to be a part of Wednesday’s life at all.
It feels like something she shouldn’t take for granted.
“Finally!” Bianca greets them when they walk through the door and dispel everything they bought onto the table, “real food!”
Yoko rolls her eyes and shoves Bianca in a playful way, and the five of them gather around the table in the table’s two actual chairs, the chair Wednesday has in her room at her desk, the chair Bianca has in her room at her desk, and the sofa chair they have to pull from the living room. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, but that’s perfectly fine with Enid.
The kitchen smells like a mix of burnt pancakes, cleaning supplies, and breakfast tacos. The apartment is being filled with conversations and laughter. Enid watches Yoko sneak a piece of bacon to Thing underneath the table, only for Wednesday to lecture the both of them.
There is nowhere else she’d rather be.
Enid is fiddling with the handle of her hydro-flask filled with an energy drink she hasn’t even touched when she realizes that Eugene is speaking to her.
When she peers up from the paper they’re supposed to be focusing on, she realizes that his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor has been replaced with something resembling concern.
“Okay, normally I’d wait for the other person to say what’s bothering them before bringing it up myself, but if this is about calculus, I can assure you that you’ll do great on your final. You’ve been working hard the whole year, and I don’t think you need to stress over it.” Eugene offers her a wide smile, and Enid gives him a small one back.
“Thanks, but that’s not what I’m worried about,” she murmurs, tapping her pencil on the table of the library, which is filled to the brim with panicked students. They’re currently supposed to be covering a review packet she found online to study for her calculus final, which is the first final she’ll be taking next week before the semester ends, but she can’t focus. When she actually takes the time to look at the problems they’re on, however, she realizes that she can understand everything she’s supposed to be doing. “But you’re right about the final, I think. Thanks for helping me.”
“No problem!”
“No, really,” Enid murmurs, slumping onto the table with a groan; she’s pretty much accepted that she won’t get any studying done for the time being. “I hate calculus, but I really think I understand everything now. I’m genuinely not worried about the final, and that’s like, crazy. Me not worried about calculus? After the mess that was this year? You’re my freakin’ hero.”
Eugene smiles again. He is meek, prone to making horrible bee-related puns, wears retainers, and is a pretty short guy. He also tends to match Enid’s optimism, which has certainly come in handy when she’s on the verge of having a mental breakdown solely because of this class.
All in all, Enid loves him.
“Really, it’s nothing,” he says. “Wednesday is pretty much my only friend, so when she first told me about you, I was excited to help. I’m glad it ended up working out.”
Enid lets out a small breath of air at the mention of a Wednesday’s name. They’re supposed to be watching movies tonight — Wednesday lost a bet to her so now they’ll be watching the Twilight series, no matter how much Wednesday objects to it — and pretty much just like usual, Enid still can’t stop thinking about her.
She has no solution she can think of aside from confessing her feelings, but that opens the door for the possibility of Wednesday rejecting her or making things awkward and losing her as a friend. All in all, Enid doesn’t know whether or not it’s worth getting these things off of her chest while risking everything else.
“Well, any friend of Wednesday’s is a friend of mine,” Enid eventually murmurs, staring back down at the calculus problem in front of her; it says something about integrating and finding the intersection points.
“Oh, really?” Eugene sounds excited, smile still on his face. “We’re friends?”
“Of course we are,” Enid tells him.
Eugene pushes his glasses further up his face to prevent them from falling down his nose. His voice is a bit quieter when he speaks again. “Well… if we’re friends, can I ask you something kinda personal? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Enid finally tears her eyes away from her paper to meet Eugene’s eyes. He looks a little hesitant.
“Go ahead,” Enid eventually replies, despite feeling like she might regret it.
Eugene hesitates, and then speaks. “Are you and Wednesday… together?”
The words hang in the air for a moment. Enid feels something heavy in her chest, something that feels like it’s clawing at her and desperate to get out. She swallows the feeling, hoping it remains where it is.
“Why?” she quietly asks.
Eugene doesn’t seem to realize how much of an affect the question has on her. “No reason in particular, I was just wondering because she kind of talks about you a lot. Well, I guess not a lot, since she doesn’t really talk a lot in general, but enough to the point where it’s become noticeable. Plus, a few days ago when the three of us got smoothies at that place on campus, she let you hug her. Which was like, woah.”
She doesn’t know what to say to him.
He must take her silence as an answer, because he keeps speaking. “I guess I’m asking ‘cause I just wanted to say… try not to hurt her? She’s really selective with the people she lets in, and I don’t know if she’s told you about the last person she got close to, but…”
“Tyler?” Enid asks, finally finding the words to respond to something. She feels a seethe of anger whenever she thinks about him and his actions, a want to protect Wednesday from the harm that he and others have caused her despite knowing that it’s in the past and she can’t. She’s glad she doesn’t appear to be the only one, because Eugene frowns at the mention of his name.
He pushes his glasses up again. “Yeah, him.” He pauses for a moment, and then continues. “I don’t think you’re anything like him, though. I really like you, and I can tell that Wednesday does, too. I’m glad she has you.”
Enid looks at him. She looks at the softness of his brown eyes, the uncertain look he’s wearing like he’s not sure how Enid will react. Wednesday has told her before that, although she’ll never admit it to Eugene, he reminds her of her little brother Pugsley. Enid knows that they’re good friends. Wednesday cares about him a lot.
It’s this knowledge that makes his words hurt even more.
“We’re not together,” Enid finally murmurs, and watches as Eugene’s eyes widen through his thick glasses. “I wish we were, but we’re not.”
Eugene’s mouth opens and closes several times before he finally speaks again. “Then why aren’t you?”
“She doesn’t like me like that,” Enid mutters, sort of bitter.
“She doesn’t— what? Are you sure?”
Enid frowns. “Have you seen us? We’re literally the complete opposite of each other.”
“What does that have to do with whether or not she has feelings for you?”
“I—” Enid stops, deflates in her seat, and then shrugs.
Eugene just sounds confused. “So, wait. You like her, you wish you two were together, but you don’t think she likes you back?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” Eugene chuckles even though Enid doesn’t see how any of this is funny. “I think you may be wrong about the not liking you back part. But if you want my advice, I think the best course of action going forward would be to just talk to her about it. Wednesday appreciates honesty more than anything else.”
“You’re right,” Enid says weakly. She’s learned in the past several months of knowing Wednesday that it’s why she’s a journalist — the feeling of discovering a truth to things that try to remain hidden is a feeling that remains unmatched, according to herself.
She’s gonna have to be honest.
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, and then releases it. “I’ll talk to her.”
Enid relishes in the warmth of the sleeping girl in her arms; how her chest rises and falls with a rhythmic ease, soft breaths hitting Enid’s neck with every few beats that pass. She inhales deep breaths of her and finds hints of what roses must smell like when they’re dying, what the forest smells like after it rains. She feels so immersed, so surrounded by everything Wednesday that she doesn’t ever want to leave.
Two weeks ago, Wednesday hugged her for the first time. They slept in the same bed and Wednesday made her feel more loved than Enid has possibly ever felt in her entire life. She’s not sure if that was the night that something shifted between them, but since then, it’s clear that something has changed. They’re a lot more touchy: Wednesday lets Enid hug her as long as she asks beforehand, their shoulders will brush together when they walk, hands sometimes knocking against each other’s. When she stays over, Enid will sleep in Wednesday’s bed rather than Yoko’s or Bianca’s even though Wednesday has the smallest bed between the three of them. Before they had started their binge of the Twilight series, they were both mutually complaining about the stress of finals, when Wednesday pondered over whether or not cuddling would help because it supposedly helps to release stress. When Enid had asked her if that’s what she wanted to do while struggling to keep the bubbling hope rising with her, Wednesday had casually said to test the theory, sure.
She doesn’t know what all of it means, but with finals beginning in two days, she’s been trying not to focus on it.
On the screen, the Volturi brutally murder someone. Enid feels Wednesday shift a bit in her position of laying on top of Enid, and she lets one of her arms fall onto the couch from its previous place of being loosely wrapped around Wednesday in a gentle hug.
“Finally,” Wednesday murmurs, and Enid’s just surprised because she honestly thought Wednesday was asleep, “something interesting. If I have to watch Bella flirt pathetically with Edward and Jacob one more time I’m going to rip my eyes from their sockets.”
“Hey,” Enid protests, not because of Wednesday’s morbid comment — she got used to those months ago — but because of the insult toward the movie.
“I don’t see how anyone could possibly enjoy this series,” Wednesday mutters.
“The cheesy romance and the werewolves are why I love it. I love werewolves,” Enid gushes.
“Of course you do,” says Wednesday. “How many more movies do we have?”
“Uh, let’s see. Well, Eclipse comes after New Moon, which is the one we’re currently watching, which is also the second one in the series, and then there’s Breaking Dawn Part One and Breaking Dawn Part Two which have the same title and are split like that because the last book was really long and they couldn’t fit everything that happened all in one movie but I wouldn’t really know though because I didn’t read them which means that—”
“Breathe,” Wednesday gently reminds her.
“Right,” Enid says, taking a moment to pause, take a breath, and gather her racing thoughts in order before she speaks again so she’s more coherent. “Thanks. We’re on the second movie, but there’s five in total, so we still have three more.”
Wednesday sighs. “You’re lucky I tolerate you, because I would not be subjecting myself to this particular torture if it were anyone else.”
“Aww,” Enid teases her, angling her head a bit so she can see a bit of Wednesday’s face from where it’s resting on her sternum. “Are you saying you like me?”
“I’m saying I tolerate you. There is a clear difference. Coo at me again and the Volturi won’t be the only ones who kill someone tonight.”
“Potato, po-tah-to.”
Wednesday doesn’t reply, but Enid can see the ghost of a smile on her lips.
Monday afternoon, Enid finds herself in her favorite bakery in the area. Streams of sunlight pour through the windows, swallowing the room in a bright light. The smell of chocolate chip cookies, pink macaroons, and black coffee encompasses the shop, and the sound of soft piano notes and the chatter of patrons is a nice ambience.
“So, it’s an order for three mixed donuts, a large red-velvet cupcake, two slices of lemon-cake, and a basket of cookies,” the cashier asks, looking at the order on the screen in front of him. When Enid confirms the order, he nods and calls out her name to someone in the back. “Is this for a group?” he conversationally asks as she pays.
Enid gives him a sunny smile. “Yep!”
(It isn’t. She’s just rewarding herself because she just finished her calculus exam, she’s feeling pretty confident, and as of half an hour ago, she will never have to worry about the stupid subject ever again.)
While she’s waiting for her order to finish being made, she pulls out her phone and easily scrolls to the most recent of her messages.
enid — Wednesday
May 7th 4:18 p.m.
enid [4:18]
hi
Wednesday [4:20]
Hello.
How’d your calculus final go?
enid [4:20]
IM FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday [4:21]
I presume it went well then?
enid [4:21]
it did!!!!
Wednesday [4:21]
How positively awful.
enid [4:21]
how’d your finals go?? you had chem and theory today right?
Wednesday [4:22]
I’m certain I got a perfect grade on both.
enid [4:22]
great!! :D
Wednesday [4:22]
What are you doing now?
enid [4:22]
i’m at a bakery picking up treats :D
Enid gets up when her name is called, and practically starts frothing at the mouth when she smells the pastries that are handed to her in a large brown bag. When she leaves the bakery, she holds the bag with one hand and uses her other hand to pull her phone back out since she felt it buzz several times in her pocket.
Wednesday [4:23]
I’m currently in one of the practice rooms at the music building.
One of the newer ones on the third floor.
It’s horrifically sunny in here because there’s a large window.
You’d like it.
Enid smiles because she understands that this is Wednesday’s way of inviting her to hang out with her.
enid [4:25]
im otw
“Wow,” Enid says before taking another bite of her donut, “Th’s ‘s r’lly good,” she’s muffled now, one hand beneath her chin to catch any crumbs.
“I find my thoughts concerning less about the taste and more about the fact that you’re going to be even more energetic than usual,” says Wednesday, eyeing the box full of all the pastries Enid bought earlier. Enid’s pretty sure food isn’t allowed in any of the practice rooms, especially not the newer ones like the one they’re currently in, but she couldn’t care less right now.
“Probably,” she agrees, and stuffs her face with another bite.
The sun is high above the cities skylines; golden rays of light pour into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sound of a cello fills both the room and Enid’s heart with something she can’t explain. It sounds like something out of a dream, like days on a beach, sand coating her toes and drifting waves on the shoreline.
She can’t stop looking at Wednesday.
She’s playing her cello of course — going through a cover of Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones for her Youtube channel. Where she’s sitting is square in the middle of the light from the window; Enid suspects it has more to do with the shot rather than wanting to be in the sunlight.
Enid herself is sitting on a small couch pressed up against the wall and out of the way of the shot for when Wednesday actually starts recording, closer to where the piano is. She’s eating her pastries while staring at the gorgeous girl in front of her, listening to her play the most delightful instrument there is.
Wednesday is so beautiful.
Enid’s chest seems to constrict when she suddenly remembers her conversation with Eugene from a few days ago. He had seemed so convinced that they were together; he had said that Wednesday talked about her, had made it seem like it was obvious that Wednesday likes her. Enid does agree with the fact that Wednesday probably likes her — Wednesday certainly doesn’t tolerate being around people she doesn’t like — but could she possibly like her back in that way?
It doesn’t make any sense. Wednesday is a straightforward person. Like Eugene mentioned, she likes honesty more than anything. If she liked Enid, wouldn’t she have said something by now?
Enid is pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of the couch dipping next to her. Wednesday is next to her, posture straight and perfect as always, face void of any emotion. Her cello is leaning against the now unoccupied chair.
“Hi?” Enid squeaks, a little confused. “Are you taking a break?”
“Yes,” Wednesday surprises her. “I usually do this right before I record. It’s better to allow myself a few minutes to collect myself before I record because I like to record the baseline in one shot.”
“Oh. Sweet.” Then Enid lifts the cupcake she just pulled out of her box and puts it in Wednesday’s view. “Get it? Sweet?”
“Yes, Enid, I understand the joke.”
Enid giggles to herself, and then takes a bite of her cupcake.
She may as well have bitten into heaven.
“Oh my God,” she moans as the flavors melt on her tongue. When Wednesday turns to look at her, a brow raised, Enid takes another bite before speaking again. “Taste it, it’s really fuckin’ good, I love this place so much,” she says with delight, holding everything that is right with the world wrapped into a cupcake out in front of her.
Wednesday looks at the red cake with half-disgust and half-curiosity, and then leans in to take a bite from where Enid is still holding the cupcake. Enid knows she’s made a mistake almost immediately, because now they’re a lot closer than they were before. She watches as Wednesday actually takes a bite and then leans back, silent as she chews, largely focused.
“It’s just chocolate and sugar,” Wednesday says, finally looking back at her, unimpressed. Enid lowers her cupcake in her lap, trying not to think too much about Wednesday and everything she loves about her because if she thinks too long about it she’ll say it and that probably won’t be a good thing.
Enid swallows heavily before she responds. “Yeah. Tastes good though, right?”
“I suppose you are right,” Wednesday agrees. She watches Enid for a moment, eyes burning into the side of her face, and then gets back up from the couch to undoubtedly go back to her chair.
Enid closes her eyes.
Her chest collapses inward on itself the more and more she thinks about how easy it seems to be between them now, how Enid’s stupid feelings are about to ruin it all. She goes back and forth in her head, trying to make sense of the possibilities that could arise from telling Wednesday about her feelings, trying to assure herself that no matter what could happen, it’ll be better if she just confesses her feelings.
The guilt of everything she’s done because of her feelings for Wednesday and the anxiety from possibly telling Wednesday gnaws at her, and before she can stop herself, Enid is standing up with a nervous energy and speaking.
“Wednesday,” she mumbles to make sure her voice doesn’t crack, “I need to tell you something.”
Wednesday looks up. She’s seemingly just gotten settled, cello in position, bow grasped in her right hand, sunlight positioned perfectly over her. Even though she doesn’t say anything, even though her face remains blank and impassive, her eyes are patient.
“I…” Enid trails off, looks away, and then takes a shaky breath to try and regain the confidence. Her eyes sting with tears; she feels like she’s crumbling apart, and she’s barely even said anything yet.
“What’s wrong?” Wednesday asks her, and that gentle, soft voice Enid has only ever heard Wednesday use with her makes a return. It washes over her like warm molten liquid and makes her feel safe, like maybe they’ll be okay after this conversation.
“It’s hard,” she whispers, and hopes Wednesday knows what she means despite the fact that she has given no context as to what she could possibly be referring to. Wednesday takes her eyes off her to set her cello down on its case, bow resting near it, and then stands up and takes a few more steps toward Enid.
Then there is a small body pressing against her own, arms wrapping around her shoulders, chin resting on her shoulder. Enid easily wraps her arms around Wednesday’s waist, and presses her own face into Wednesday’s shoulder. She notices that Wednesday smells like type-writer ink and familiarity, and sighs into the memories that it brings.
It’s just Wednesday.
It’s just her.
Just be honest.
Enid keeps her face pressed into Wednesday’s shoulder and mumbles, “I like you.”
There is silence. A dead, frightening, horrible silence that follows where neither of them speaks for several moments. Neither of them even move. Then Enid inhales sharply, and barely manages to keep her voice from trembling when she just sort of spills everything out.
“I like you, like, a lot. Like—um, okay, I’m just gonna say it, I love you. I really love you, Wednesday.” The words tumble out of her mouth, and once she starts, she can’t stop. “I really don’t know how this happened because like—we’re so different, we’re so so different from each other, and we shouldn’t work but I think we do? Like, you’re my best friend, and it’s so easy to be with you, and, um, apparently I fell in love with you at some point and I’m not exactly sure when, but I did, and I wanted to tell you because I’ve been holding it in for a while and trying to figure out how to get over you but whenever I tried it would pretty much just end in disaster, so I figured the next best thing would just be to tell you to get it off my chest, and—”
Her voice is shaking and cracking at places, and there are tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Enid sniffles when Wednesday still doesn’t say anything, and thinks, oh God, oh God.
“You— you don’t have to say anything and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore because of this, I don’t expect anything from you at all because I know this is a lot to just randomly tell you and I know you don’t feel the same way and you don’t like feelings and things like that, I’m sorry for just dropping it and I’m sorry for falling in love with you to begin with and—”
Enid cuts herself off when she feels Wednesday try to pull away from her. She squeezes her eyes shut and hugs Wednesday tighter, refusing to let her go.
“Enid,” Wednesday whispers. “Look at me.”
Enid shakes her head.
“Please,” she tries.
Enid opens her eyes when she hears the desperation in Wednesday’s voice, feeling her resolve threatening to crumble again, but releases her grip on Wednesday and slowly pulls away from her.
When they finally meet each other’s gaze, Enid realizes that Wednesday is already searching her face, her eyes, as if they’ll reveal more. Maybe she’s looking for something Enid hasn’t said, or maybe she’s looking for something to save them both from this conversation.
“You love me?” Wednesday quietly asks, like she’s trying to clarify what Enid has just dumped on her.
Enid nods.
“And you’re… sorry?”
Enid nods again.
“Because you think I don’t feel the same way?”
Enid closes her eyes and nods.
“Enid.” Wednesday sounds confused, and it’s that that makes Enid open her eyes again. “I have maybe five people I actually consider to be my friends, and even those people I can only handle in scarce amounts. You—I want to be around you all the time. I want to hug you and cuddle with you and touch you and I hate touching other people. I let you read parts of my novel and I play music for you that I write. I write music specifically for you to dance to. I let you take apart my braids and braid them again even though having my hair down makes me feel vulnerable and there is nothing I hate more than feeling vulnerable in front of others. I sleep better when I’m with you. I bought you flowers just because they reminded me of you. I hear music when we’re together; I’ve been writing so much music ever since meeting you because I just hear it when I’m with you.”
Enid stands there, eyes wide, lips parted.
“You’re bubbly and loud and chatty, you play horrible, ear-splitting pop music in my room, you kick and talk in your sleep, and you’re blindly optimistic. Instead of finding that all annoying like I typically would, I find that all incredibly endearing.”
Enid just watches her, feeling like she is seconds away from self-imploding.
“I love you more than I have ever loved anything else,” Wednesday tells her.
“What,” Enid says weakly.
“I cannot believe you didn’t know that.”
“What?”
“What?”
“It’s not like it was obvious!”
“Did you not hear what I said? It was most certainly obvious. Bianca and Yoko make fun of me for it all the time and have been pestering me about telling you for several months.”
“Months? They’ve— they’ve been— you’ve been— months?”
“Months.”
“What,” Enid says, “what,” and then thinks that she needs to sit down. She needs to sit down right the fuck now, so she sits there on the middle of the floor, and puts her head in her hands. “What the fuck?”
Wednesday joins her on the ground. She sits cross-legged right in front of her, the tips of her Doc Martens touching the tips of Enid’s pink converse.
They rest there for several seconds without speaking. Enid keeps her head in her hands, eyes wide, staring at their shoes where they are connected. Her mind is currently a loop of what the fuck does she really love me back she loves me back is she being for real right now Wednesday loves me what the fuck what is happening what the fuck.
“I was going to tell you,” Wednesday eventually continues, voice quiet and vulnerable. “I even had a whole letter drafted of what I was going to say because even though I like to consider myself superb in every aspect, I know I'm not good with words when it comes to feelings. When you went on that date with that girl, I threw it away. I figured you didn’t feel the same way, and I’m capable of hiding my feelings, so I changed my mind after that.”
“Oh. Oh my God. I was trying to get over you when I did that. The entire reason I went on that date was to try and get over you,” Enid explains weakly. “It didn’t work. That’s why I couldn’t stop crying that night.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
At Wednesday’s silence, Enid dares to lift her head, peeking through the fingers which have since come to rest on her face. Wednesday is still sitting across from her, hands clasped in front of her. From a glance, her face looks completely emotionless, but Enid can see the slight furrow in her brows, the small indent on the left side of her lip that tells her that Wednesday must be biting the inside of her cheek. Enid herself feels like she’s in a weird position—she feels like she’s about to cry, but she doesn’t know whether it’s from shock, happiness, relief, or the struggle of trying to process everything.
“This is so embarrassing,” Enid groans, forcing herself to drop her hands from her face. “I’m still trying to process everything, but— God, this is so embarrassing. You’ve had feelings for me for months? This whole time? And Yoko and Bianca knew?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Eugene knew, too,” Enid admits, and those words cause Wednesday to raise a brow. “We were studying for my calculus final on Saturday and he asked me if we were together. He literally thought we were dating, and then he said I was wrong when I said you didn’t have feelings for me.”
“I never talked to him about my feelings for you,” Wednesday murmurs, “but like I said, apparently it was evident. I didn’t want it to be, but at some point it must have just become that, because I didn’t tell Yoko or Bianca either; they figured it out. I thought then that perhaps you knew and you were just being nice about it.”
“You thought I was just being nice?”
“Well, yes. You can’t blame me. You’re too kind for this world, Enid. It makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and protect you from any harm, anything that could hurt you. I don’t want you to lose that about yourself. It’s why I get so distraught when you’re upset.”
Enid’s breath hitches at Wednesday’s words.
Then, there’s a hand on her wrist.
Wednesday gently pulls Enid’s hand away from where she was tightly gripping her pants and intertwines them. It’s a weird fit: Wednesday’s hands are cold, and Enid’s are warm.
She wouldn’t want it any other way.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Wednesday tells her. Enid lifts her head, looking Wednesday in the eyes now rather than staring at their still intertwined hands. She looks so sincere, so open, so genuine. Now that Enid really looks for it, she can see the love in her eyes.
Wednesday loves her.
Wednesday loves her.
Instead of saying anything else, Enid gently tugs on Wednesday’s hand to pull her closer. Wednesday lets herself be pulled—Enid uncrosses her legs and Wednesday settles in her lap. Enid brings her free hand up to frame Wednesday’s face, and then presses their foreheads together.
“I really, really want to kiss you,” Enid admits.
“What’s stopping you?” Wednesday asks.
Then Enid is pulling the hand still intertwined with Wednesday’s away so she can hold her face with both hands, and closing the distance between their mouths.
It takes a moment for Enid to register that they’re actually kissing, which is ridiculous, considering she’s the one who initiated it. When it does seem to set in, Enid shuts her eyes, trying to savor the feeling of soft lips against her own, the way it feels when Wednesday kisses her back, but she just feels so overwhelmed in such a good way, hands trembling and soul bursting with affection that it's hard to remember everything Wednesday does when they’re kissing. She feels a hand come up to cover one of the hands she has on Wednesday’s face, and then there’s a squeeze, and Enid would think it’s Wednesday’s way of telling her to slow down if it weren’t for the fact that Wednesday pushes further into the kiss, turning it into something real.
They’re kissing. They’re really kissing, and it’s dizzying, endless, and so sweet.
Despite really, really not wanting to, Enid has to take a breath for air. She smiles, a little out of breath, when Wednesday immediately tries to follow her only to frown when Enid pulls further away.
“Sorry,” Enid giggles, feeling warmth and giddiness swell in her chest, “sorry, I just— just had to catch my breath,” and then they’re kissing again, mouths warm against each other. Enid tilts her head just a little bit, and they keep kissing, soft and sweet and continuous. They keep kissing for a long time, and at some point time gets a bit weird because by the time Enid realizes what’s happening, she’s on her back and Wednesday is above her, a hand cupping the back of Enid’s head to prevent her from hitting her head on the hardwood floor, and they’re still kissing.
Enid makes a tiny noise of happiness into the kiss.
Wednesday pulls away to laugh, breath warm against her lips, and Enid’s heart fucking melts.
“Oh my God,” she says, smile so wide she feels like her face is going to split in half, “oh my God, did you just laugh? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before, oh my God, it’s so nice. Please tell me what I need to do to get you to laugh again.”
“Enid,” Wednesday exhales, face hovering above her, but she’s smiling now, too.
“I love you, and I love your laugh. I’m so happy. I’m never gonna stop saying it now.”
“Enid.”
“No, seriously, I’m gonna say it like all the time. When you wake up in the mornings, I’m gonna tell you I love you. When you’re gonna go to sleep, I’m gonna tell you I love you. When you’re playing your cello, I love you. When you’re grumpy because you haven’t had any coffee in the morning, I love you. When you’re curled up in a blanket burrito because you’re so small and tiny and you get cold so easily, I love you. I’ve been holding this in for months too, okay? I have to tell you all the time now to make up for lost time.”
“Good,” Wednesday says, eyes full of so much love, “because I love you too,” and then they’re kissing again.
It’s absolutely wonderful.
vii.
Wednesday doesn’t record the video.
She claims she’ll be too distracted the whole time, unable to focus, that she can just record it some other time this week, and then they kiss some more. Afterward, they stop at the trucks they had their first (date? hangout?) at to just grab some food and talk like they usually do, and then they go home.
On the walk to the apartment, Enid holding Wednesday’s cello for her on her back and Wednesday’s hand with one of her own hands, she asks, “was that our first date?”
“What?” Wednesday asks, confused.
“The taco truck we went to in October. Or when we went just now. Were either of those a date?”
Wednesday is silent for a moment, like she is thinking long and hard. Then, she says, “no.”
“Oh.”
“We haven’t had a first date,” Wednesday confidently continues. “Our first date is going to be better than that. I already have plans.”
“Oh,” Enid smiles. She thinks of Wednesday’s words now, and Wednesday’s words earlier, and then says, “wow, who would’ve guessed you’d be so romantic?”
Wednesday frowns. “It is absurd of you to think I would put minimal effort into anything. I always give my all in every situation I put myself into, and that will include this relationship.”
“All I’m hearing is that you’re secretly super romantic.”
“That is not what I said.”
“It’s basically what you said.”
“Clearly your mind is deteriorating, you’re losing your hearing, or your ability to pay attention for a period of time has dwindled from the already short span it was.”
“You’re totally super romantic.”
“Fine. Don’t tell anyone that.”
“And what if I do?”
“They’ll never believe you.”
“Yeah,” Enid laughs, “you’re probably right.”
After they arrive at the apartment, after they eat dinner and talk and laugh with Yoko and Bianca who haven’t even seemed to notice the change between them (which honestly makes Enid question her initial thought that it wasn’t obvious that they had feelings for each other), after they both shower and get ready for bed and then makeout for a bit once they’re actually in bed, it takes Enid a long while to fall asleep.
She’s got a lot to think about.
In the morning she wakes up to something shifting on top of her, and for a moment, she’s disoriented, blinking into the pale morning light and wondering why there’s a heavy weight on her chest. The sounds of ruffling sheets also accompany it before a bit of the weight leaves her body.
“Enid,” a voice that sounds like Wednesday’s says her name, and Enid cracks her eyes open again. She sees Wednesday, hair out of their braids and falling around her face in pretty waves, hovering above her. “Wake up.”
Then, she remembers.
Listening to Wednesday playing her cello. Confessing to Wednesday about her feelings. Hearing Wednesday say she returns those feelings. Kissing Wednesday. Going back to the apartment with Wednesday. Falling into bed with Wednesday.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Enid had sleepily murmured in amusement as Wednesday cuddled up practically on top of her when they began to fall asleep, “but what are you doing?”
“Testing whether or not this will get you to stop moving around so much in your sleep,” Wednesday responded, settling mostly on top of her, head on her chest, a leg between her own. Enid supposes it must have worked, because she’s still in what is pretty much the same position she was in when she fell asleep.
“Nn,” Enid mumbles in the present, wrapping her arms around Wednesday and encouraging her to cuddle back into her. “Go back to sleep. Too early.”
“You have your English final in less than two hours,” Wednesday reminds her, letting Enid tug her back down. This time, however, she presses her mouth to Enid’s shoulder, and slowly kisses up until she’s reached her jaw. Enid lets out a shaky breath as Wednesday speaks between her kisses. “You should get up soon.”
“No,” she whines. “Wanna sleep.”
Wednesday doesn’t relent. She kisses up her jaw, around her face, her cheeks and forehead and nose until she’s reached her smiling lips. Enid kisses her back softly, leaning into the hand that cups her face and gently strokes her cheekbone.
“So… how do you feel?” she asks once Wednesday pulls away, definitely more awake after kissing her. “About things. About what happened yesterday. Nothing’s changed, right?”
“Of course not,” Wednesday tells her, settling next to her. “I still feel the same way.”
Enid turns on her side to face Wednesday, and they curl toward each other like parenthesis. “Okay. Me too.”
“Good,” Wednesday murmurs, and kisses her again. This time it’s short and chaste, a quick steal of a moment. Enid smiles; she can certainly get used to this.
“So, are we like—girlfriends? Or do you not want to put a label on it? If you even wanted to enter a relationship or anything in the first place— sorry, I don’t mean to assume.” Enid stops herself right there before she can start uselessly rambling until she either runs out of breath or Wednesday interrupts her.
“Enid,” Wednesday starts, “the mark you have left on my soul is indelible. You have captured me utterly; you hold my heart in your hands. If it is something you would want, I’d love to be in a relationship with you.”
“Okay,” Enid smiles, staring at Wednesday’s sincere and genuine face in a bit of surprise because seriously, who knew she could be so romantic? God, it feels like every moment they’re in each other’s presence Enid’s love for her only grows. “Okay, yeah, I’d love that. So, girlfriends?”
Wednesday nods. Her voice is firm and steady when she speaks. “Girlfriends.”
(“I can tell,” Yoko says, hours later into the day, after they’ve all gotten through whatever final(s) they may have had. They’re at the park now because someone suggested it, and Enid had looked at Wednesday when she initially said no and pouted and blinked and said, please come with us. Wednesday hadn’t been able to say no after that. “I can tell by the way you look at her that she’s the one for you.”
Wednesday watches her girlfriend and friends run around in the park; she and Yoko are sitting on a bench while Divina and Enid throw a frisbee around, Bianca standing with her hands on her hips and watching them. Enid is smiling wide, laughing as they go, nearly tripping over her own feet when she has to catch the frisbee. For a dancer — and a good one at that — she’s surprisingly clumsy when she’s not actually dancing.
They haven’t told their friends about the recent development in their relationship yet. Yoko had just come to sit down next to her, waited a moment, and then said, “so, you two finally figured your shit out?” and Wednesday hadn’t asked how she’d known, just nodded her head.
“How do I look at her?” Wednesday asks, returning to the present conversation.
Yoko is quiet for a moment. “Like she’s the sun that has finally appeared after a hundred years of night.”
Wednesday doesn’t respond, even though she knows Yoko’s words are probably true. In the background, Enid’s laughter rings clear, and Wednesday’s chest fills with warmth.
It feels like floating.)
Enid skips over to her girlfriend when she and Divina stop throwing the frisbee and comes to a halt right where she’s sitting, a little out of breath but feeling a lot of happiness. She just stands there, smiling wide, bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes and not even knowing what it is that she’s waiting for, just that she has a lot of energy and she loves being around Wednesday.
“Hello,” Wednesday greets her, amused. “Tired yet?”
“No,” Enid grins, and then without caring that they are definitely in line of sight of their friends, she leans down to kiss her. It's short and sweet, barely lasting even more than a second, and when Enid pulls back, Wednesday speaks.
“Mi sol,” she whispers to her, and Enid softens when she hears Wednesday speak to her in Spanish, “I love you.”
“I love you,” Enid tells her, feeling so warm, so full of golden love. Wednesday is smiling wide now: teeth visible, dimples on full display.
Enid thinks about how, in the beginning, she used to keep track of how often she could make Wednesday smile. She thinks about how now, she has all the time in the world to make sure that beautiful smile never leaves Wednesday’s face.
*