Chapter Text
The imperial dissonance of Wednesday's signature cello music flutters fervently through the paper-thin autumn air of Nevermore. Through her sleep addled eyes, Enid observes the weathered silhouette of Wednesday through the painted glass window, perched intricately upon the terrace that overlooks the courtyard. Her subtle frame is encased by their woeful, divisive window – one side an explosion of color, the other the beautiful void of it.
Enid ponders how something so inherently opposite – so objectively different from one another – can simultaneously create something so beautiful to look at it.
~No wonder she's grown on you~
Shifting under the covers, she mulls a bit longer, catching sight of Thing flipping through the pages of a True Crime magazine on the end of Wednesday’s bed.
~Wednesday would have that~
She smiles and waves at him, in which he returns a happy flick of his pointer finger. She never thought she’d grow so fond of a disembodied hand. Had someone told her that, even just a year ago, she would’ve sent a letter to the nearest psych ward, begging for their admittance.
Shucking the covers off and fetching her phone, she checks the time.
7:58.
~I can spare a few minutes of sleep~
Enid gathers up her covers and tosses them aside, throwing on her favorite fuchsia crewneck for good measure. Anything to combat the bitter cold. Autumn in Nevermore is no joke.
The last few weeks, Enid has been making not-so-subtle attempts at bonding with her notoriously dismissive roommate. She considers it a challenge --- having led a life where physical touch was the currency of all her affections, meeting someone so emotionally reserved and physically retreated provoked the very essence of her being. She is still, naively so, approaching the girl as though she is an egg to crack --- a puzzle to solve, in ways to see if there is some secret formula to unleashing a part of her that she keeps so ritualistically hidden from the world. The longer it takes, the more it fascinates her, and the more her heart yearns for that elusive victory. It's not her fault that Wednesday is so invigorating. So different. So intriguing.
~and so fucking pretty~
~~~~~“Take the win, Enid.”~~~~~~
This crush that Enid is developing – something she still is fighting to come to terms with – has made many interactions with the girl nearly impossible. She has never felt anything this strong before, not for anyone – even Ajax.
Truth be told, she had fought it for some time -- resigning herself to the fact that Wednesday was simply too emotionally suppressed for her to ever even consider such an advance. Yet, the longer she ignores it, the more poignant it becomes. Not only that, but it seems as though Wednesday has gradually begun opening up to her! Not in the most obvious of ways, of course – many are by definition blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, if she's being honest. But the signs were still there. That, or Enid’s love-mushed brain was creating something out of nothing – anything, to give her aching heart an ounce of hope.
Simply put, she thought she was dying at first.
How the hell could she even go about this crush? It's practically impossible, all things considered. Yet, there is still a part of her that longs for it. That begs her to try.
~Babysteps, Enid. Babysteps.~
Enid approaches the window with a delicate gentleness, as to not startle Wednesday or disturb her playing. She places her palm upon the damaged handle, brainstorming some sort of witty, charming greeting to use upon introduction. Wednesday is always loaded with some sort of dry comeback, or disturbing one-liner. Perhaps something a little more macabre could be right up her alley? Enid dreams of the day she could ever hear Wednesday laugh. Can she even do that? Or would she burst into flames and die on the spot?
Suddenly, however, the music comes to an abrupt and momentous conclusion, followed by impenetrable silence. Enid's phone buzzes with a text from Ajax. The time reads exactly 8:00pm. It wrenches Enid from her positive daydreaming and thrusts her back into reality. There she is, standing barefoot at the foot of their window, considering talking to Wednesday during the one time she most certainly wouldn’t wish to be disturbed. She has a death wish. She must be going crazy.
On second thought, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. She wouldn’t wish to push it with her roomie. She’s crossed lots of lines in the past, as it is. Taking one step forward with Wednesday is an uphill battle, whilst twenty steps back is as simple as an unwelcome hug.
Regardless, the discontinuation of music freezes the werewolf in place – mainly due to its irregularity. Extremely out of character.
~That’s strange… she usually plays till like, 9 or 10. Even on school nights. What could possibly---~
The window whirls open abruptly -- nearly colliding with the underside of Enid’s jaw -- and she’s met eye to eye with the familiar static expression of one Wednesday Addams, whose own gazes widens just a little bit at the shock of Enid’s presence.
“Jesus, Wednesday!” Enid exclaims. She pats at the sides of her face as if to make sure it were still in one piece. “You nearly took my head off!”
Wednesday stares at her. She looks almost surprised, if she could even sustain such an emotion. Enid doesn’t blame her. It's not often they came this close to one another. She herself is certainly feeling its effects.
“Enid.” Wednesday states her name matter-of-factly, like she is reading a headline on the morning paper. “What are you doing up?”
Wednesday is not dressed properly for this kind of weather. Her patterned sweater vest is the thickest garment she has on, and even that is hardly adequate. It didn't provide a slight differentiation in her usual demeanor, nor was it appropriate for mid-Autumn weather. Enid wasn’t sure what she was expecting, however. Wednesday’s style remains as binary as ever.
“Well, I was planning on joining you.” Enid replies, though her tone comes out a tad more defensive than she intends it too. She wants nothing more than to bundle the jaded teen up in a flurry of blankets and warm hugs and hot cocoa --- but she also wishes to keep all her limbs intact. “But now, I only want you to get your ass inside! Its freezing, Wednesday! What the hell are you thinking?”
Wednesday hands her cello bow to Thing, who appeared patiently upon the floor by their feet. He then dutifully scurries away to somewhere beside her bed to store it.
“I sometimes like to remind myself of the cold.” Wednesday explains flatly. Her gaze flits from Thing to her worried roommate with a dismissive flair. “Body heat is one of the first things to go when you die. I feel that it helps with my music, the closer I feel to death.”
Enid blinks.
“Well, im not sure what I expected, but that sounds about right.”
She steps aside and allows her roommate the space to properly come the rest of the way inside.
Enid takes a seat on the edge of her bed and watches intently as Wednesday helps Thing up on the desk. He hands her a brand-new bottle of nail polish. At its appearance, Enid could’ve sworn the corner of Wednesdays mouth twitched, albeit just for a moment.
Wednesday takes a seat and twists the lid open, leaning into his level to glare deadpan at him. “Pink, Thing? Really? Don’t tell me Enid is rubbing off on you. We certainly don’t need more than one.”
Things taps twice on the desk, and gestures with his fingers. Wednesday nods.
“Very well,” Wednesday concedes. “But only this once.”
She then spares a glance at her roomie. “Besides, It’s not as torturous at one might think.”
Enid ignores the way her face flushes. She pulls her snood out of her bag and wraps it around her head, hoping to conceal it.
Funny. Wednesday can break down her walls with just a simple, indirect, reverse compliment (?). She has her down to a dime, whilst Enid is without a roadmap.
Regardless of the somewhat neutral mention of her influence on Thing, which mere months prior would’ve been seen as an annoyance or some sort of personal attack on the integrity of Thing and Wednesdays relationship, Enid couldn’t shake the peculiarity of Wednesdays behavior tonight. Why is she back inside so soon? Had she maybe said something before, that made Wednesday feel she hated when she played her cello?
Actually, yes she had. In their most recent spat, no less.
~Shit, Enid. ~
To think that Enid made anybody feel as though they couldn’t participate in an activity that they loved hurt her more than any window door to the dome ever could. Her mother made sure of that – she wishes that pain on nobody else.
~Say something, say something, say something. ~
“You ended early tonight.” Enid blurts out. Well, at least she's being direct. She supposes that'll work. “Why? Is it because of me?”
Wednesday pauses her ministrations. If body language was any indication, one could almost describe it as confusion. Thing taps inquisitively on the desk and leans to look (?) at Enid around Wednesday’s arm.
“I’m sorry?”
“Tonight. You only played your cello for like, an hour.” Enid continues. Her hands anxiously wrench at the fabric of her snood. She wipes them along her pant leg. “Was it maybe something I said? I hope you didn’t think I hated it. I really don’t, actually.” She swallows. Her chest feels like its on fire.
She's rambling again. She cant help it. Its her defense mechanism when her words are failing her. “I just said that to get back at you. Ya know, for insulting my pop music. But I didn’t mean it!”
Wednesday doesn’t reply. She just tilts her head to the side, as though she is analyzing her words.
That is also especially not like her. She’s usually so sure in her words. So certain in her motivations. Enid begins to feel a little sick to her stomach. Oh, jeeze -- she really must be mad at her! There was no other plausible reason as to why she was acting so damn weird!
~Other than its literally Wednesday Addams. Nothing about this girl screams “average”.~
After a moment, she resumes painting Things nails, as if unaffected, and gives her response.
“you have that test tomorrow, do you not?” Wednesday responds. “I thought it wise for you to get some sleep. Preferably, uninterrupted.”
Enid’s heart falls,
stumbles,
and lands
a cushioned blow
upon the simple realization.
~She… what? ~
“You...” Enid repeats slowly, as if to verify what she heard. “You want me to get some sleep?"
“If I must spell it out,” Wednesday reiterates coldly. “Yes. I know how you are after a night of texting Ajax, or typing on your blog. You cannot handle many distraction and also perform well academically.” she tosses a static glance over her shoulders. "It is for your benefit."
Oh, my god.
Enid almost laughs.
Once again, her people pleasing mind has dug her into a hole versus an emotional monster that wasn’t even there. She could hit herself.
Or Wednesday.
Or maybe hug her.
Or kiss her.
~ But she doesn’t.~
“You had me thinking I upset you, or something!”
Wednesday is still staring at her.
She pauses again, realization fully settling in. The tips of her ears heat up, and her heart feels as though its trying to break free from her chest.
“Wait, how did you know about-"
She stops herself. Wednesday’s shoulders have visibly tensed up.
~She’s pushing it.~
“I, uh.” Enid struggles to find her words. “I… I appreciate that, Wednesday. I really do.” She shucks off her cardigan and climbs back under her covers. The heat on her face persisting regardless. A smile slowly works its way up, as the implications of the information really begin to settle in Enid's mind. “I think it's sweet. Even though you did just insult my academic competency”
Wednesday hums. The click of the nail polish closing follows her response, and Things waddles his newly paint-covered nails around her, giving a little excited dance for Enid.
“Yes, Thing.” Wednesday agrees, setting the bottle down on her desk. “You look positively hideous.”
Enid giggles gently at Things excitement. A surge of bravery enters her system – not sure from where.
“Are you... going soft on me, Wednesday Addams?” Enid teases gently. Her tone is as delicate as the pitter patter of Things fingers upon the sheets of Wednesdays bed.
A moment passes. A moment, painted with words unspoken and emotions unseen. Thing tucks himself in to the bed, keeping his finger exposed as to dry them off, and Wednesday turns away from them both -- fixing her collar and releasing a tense sigh. Its like piano music in a world of rock. A smile aches upon Enid's face.
“Goodnight, Enid.” Wednesday replies. Her words are a friend to the wind.