Chapter Text
Thinking of childhood friends: Niddy and Nessie.
Niddy, shy and soft spoken. The new kid with too big eyes and shoes that never quite fit right. But, Nessie didn’t mind the quiet. Didn’t mind how Niddy always lagged a few steps behind, how she hesitated before every decision like the world might fall apart if she made the wrong one.
Its almost like Niddy needed her hand held to even go anywhere, to even consider moving.
It's a good thing Nessie had hands, huh?
And soon, the town would watch as these two children would parade around.
Nessie would reach back without looking and Niddy would always, always, take it.
The withdrawn Niddy and the bold Nessie, off on their little adventures.
It had been fun back then, to watch Niddy falter then cave the second Nessie leaned in. Every little word was an order, never a suggestion. Every thought, a wish that Niddy needed to fulfill.
It was comforting.
No, more than that. It was powerful. Knowing that all it took was a little push. That whatever thoughts Niddy had before, whatever fears or doubts lingered, they’d melt the moment Nessie insisted.
It was
Addicting.
Even when it led to scraped knees and raw palms. Even when the consequences of Nessie’s games left Niddy bruised and limping. Niddy could be shivering, sniffling with tears in her eyes and too sore skin and she'd shuffle In as long as Nessie led the way. It didn't matter that Nessie led her to places Niddy didn’t like and it showed.
Because when the night ends and a new one comes, there Niddy would be— Standing next to Nessie, hand in hand, skin pressed again skin. Always.
Niddy, who was always so needy.
It was all fun and games. Until Nero passed and Nessie can't help but get worse.
There was too much grief still aching in that tiny chest, too much paranoia pinging in her head. Too much fear, gnawing and desperate, that someone else might take what else she may have.
So Nessie clung tighter. Pushed harder. Held on longer.
Then Niddy moved away and Nessie went with her.
Who would’ve thought they’d see each other again, years later?
“Ni—”
A slam cuts Wednesday’s word short.
There she stood, a book on the desk and hands tense. Her teeth grit.
“It’s Enid.”