Chapter Text
Part 3
Enid pushed through the door nearly two hours after she'd left, breathing hard and scowling.
Thing appeared from behind the small black wall of his house and tapped questioningly.
"Don't." Enid kicked off her boots with more force than necessary. "Don't even start."
Thing tapped again, and it sounded suspiciously like amusement.
"I know, okay? She's really slippery." Enid dropped onto her bed, the red balloon still tauntingly cheerful above. "I lost her in the quad. She ran directly through the choir practice and was gone. Like she was worried about being followed."
Thing's tapping turned knowing.
"What do you mean 'she definitely knew'?" Enid sat up. "No. There's no way. I was super subtle."
Thing made a gesture that clearly indicated Enid's definition of "subtle" and reality's definition were not aligned.
"Okay, so maybe I'm not exactly trained in covert surveillance. But I kept my distance! I hid behind things! Well, behind a tree. But it was a big tree!" Enid hugged a pillow. "She couldn't have known. Could she?"
Thing's fingers stamped across the floor.
"Hey! I don't stomp around. I have dense bones." Enid collapsed back into the pile of pillows. "Please, Thing. I don't have the brain space for another complex right now."
Thing offered a small apologetic bow.
Enid stared at the ceiling for a long moment, her mind racing. The silence felt oppressively heavy.
Thing scurried across the floor and tapped gently.
"What? No, I'm fine. I'm totally fine." Enid sat up, forcing a brightness into her voice that she didn't feel. "You know what? I'm being ridiculous. Wednesday's allowed to have her own life. I should just..."
Enid trailed off, pressing her palms against her eyes and flopping onto her back again. "I don't know what I'm doing."
Thing scurried across the room and launched himself onto her bed. He landed on her stomach with a soft thump.
"Oof." Enid lowered her hands to look at him. "Agnes thinks I'm being paranoid. She's probably right. Wednesday wouldn't... I mean, she's Wednesday. If she wanted to break up with me she'd just say it. She wouldn't sneak around."
Thing tapped firmly against her ribs.
"I know, I know. Healthy relationships require communication." Enid sat up, and Thing slid down to her lap. "But what if I ask and she says she's having second thoughts? What if this whole thing was a mistake and she's been trying to figure out how to tell me?"
Thing remained still for a moment, then tapped something that sounded almost sympathetic.
"Yeah, okay. Well clearly. I know I'm spiraling." Enid took a breath. "I just... two weeks ago she was looking at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to her. And now she can barely look at me at all."
Thing tapped again, more insistently.
"What? No, I don't think she regrets the waxing. That would be weird even for Wednesday." Enid managed a small smile. "She seemed concerningly into it."
Thing made a gesture that clearly indicated agreement, followed by a suggestion.
Enid held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. "you're not wrong, they do look pretty bad. I haven't done them for a few days. Are you sure you don't mind?"
Thing scurried to the drawers and began pulling out bottles.
Twenty minutes later, Enid's nails were a deep purple. Thing had just finished the last coat on her pinky when she heard footsteps in the hallway.
Her heart jumped.
The door opened and Wednesday stepped through, her expression as unreadable as always.
Enid's stomach clenched.
"Hi," she said, trying to sound normal and landing somewhere near desperate.
Wednesday's eyes found hers, then dropped to her freshly painted nails. "Purple suits you."
"Thing did them. He's really talented." Enid flexed her fingers, watching the light catch on the polish. "How was your... thing?"
"Adequate." Wednesday set her bag down on her desk.
The silence stretched. Enid watched Wednesday's back, the tension she carried in her shoulders with such pride.
Thing tapped urgently against Enid's knee.
Right. Healthy communication.
"Wednesday?" Enid's voice came out smaller than she'd hoped.
Wednesday turned, her dark eyes finding Enid's face. "Yes?"
"Can we talk?"
Something flickered across Wednesday's expression. "About?"
"About..." Enid swallowed hard. "About where you've been going. About why you've been avoiding me."
Wednesday remained perfectly still. "I haven't been avoiding you."
"You gave me a balloon and then disappeared for three hours. You've barely been in the room all week. Every time I ask to hang out you have some excuse." Enid's hands clenched in her lap, careful not to smudge Thing's work. "If you... if you've changed your mind about us, you can just tell me. You don't have to sneak around trying to figure out how to let me down easy."
Wednesday's eyebrows rose slightly. "Let you down easy?"
"I know I'm a lot. I'm loud and I'm messy and I cry at basically everything and since the extended wolf out I'm hairier than humans are meant to be." The words were coming faster now, tumbling over each other. "And you're you. You're brilliant and controlled and you have your whole aesthetic and maybe you realized that having a girlfriend who embarrasses you and talks too much doesn't really fit into that."
"Enid."
"I just need to know. Because this limbo is killing me and I'd rather you just say it than keep wondering if every time you leave you're trying to figure out how to break up with me without..." Enid's voice cracked. "Without hurting me."
Wednesday crossed the room. She didn't sit on Enid's bed, but she stood close enough that Enid had to look up to meet her eyes.
"My decision regarding you is absolute," Wednesday said. Her voice was low and steady, each word deliberate. "I may have been avoiding you. But the conclusion you reached is incorrect."
Enid blinked. "It is?"
Wednesday was quiet for a long moment. Her jaw worked like she was chewing on words she didn't want to say. Finally, she lowered herself, very slowly to take up as little room on Enid's colorful sheets as possible. Her hands folded in her lap.
"I don't know how to do this," she said quietly.
"Do what?"
"This. Us. Any of it." Wednesday stared at her hands. "I have never been someone's girlfriend. I don't know the protocols. I don't understand the expectations. Every article I read contradicts the previous one and the advice is either uselessly vague or disturbingly specific."
Enid stared at her. "I saw you'd been reading a lot."
"You saw the articles?" Wednesday's voice was flat, but there was something underneath it. Something that sounded almost like embarrassment.
Despite everything, Enid felt her mouth twitch. "I didn't read them, but you need to close the tabs after you're done with them. I'll show you how."
"I took a love languages quiz six times attempting to predict how you would answer. The results were inconsistent." Wednesday finally looked up, meeting Enid's eyes. "I have been attempting to determine what constitutes your perfect partner. The research suggests activities like going to movies together, sharing meals, engaging in conversation about mutual interests."
"Okay?" Enid said slowly.
"I realized I had no frame of reference for most of these activities. So I have been..." Wednesday paused, like the next words physically pained her. "Practicing."
"Practicing eating?"
"I went to see The Rowboat." Wednesday's expression was perfectly deadpan, but her fingers were gripping the edge of her shirt. "Alone. It was two hours of poorly written dialogue and plot contrivances that failed to survive basic scrutiny. There is more chemistry in Eugene's bee hives. It took over an hour before they had an honest conversation."
Enid's brain was trying to catch up. "Why would you watch a romcom by yourself?"
"I watched two. The Wedding Season was even worse. The title character made a series of increasingly improbable decisions. They both required psychological help. But the people in the movie theater would not listen to my suggestions."
"You're not meant to talk during the movie."
"Yes. I was repeatedly shushed."
"But... why did you go? You hate romcoms."
Wednesday's grip on the bottom of her baggy tshirt tightened. "Because you wanted to see them. And I knew if we went together I would spend the entire time pointing out the inadequacies. I would ruin it for you." She paused. "I thought if I exposed myself to them first, I could build up sufficient tolerance to sit through one with you without complaining."
Enid felt the pieces in her mind forming a shape she hadn't considered. "You tortured yourself with bad movies so you could watch them with me later?"
"I... may have made it worse."
"Worse?"
"A man with a power complex and body odor that smelled too much like popcorn took great pleasure in forbidding my return."
Enid's own laugh caught her by surprise.
"I also went to two escape rooms. They were disappointingly easy. One of the staff members accused me of cheating when I picked the lock on the door I had entered by." Wednesday's voice remained flat. "Who would play their twisted games unnecessarily for an additional fifty eight minutes? He informed me I lacked... whimsy."
"Wednesday." Enid hoped her laughter wouldn't offend Wednesday, but picturing her in these scenarios proved too amusing to contain. "You didn't have to do any of that."
"I did." Wednesday finally released the fabric, her hands falling to her lap. "Because I don't know what I'm doing. I have no idea how to be what you want. You dream of rainbows and I am physically allergic to color."
"I don't want rainbows." Enid's voice came out fierce. "I want you. The actual you. Not some version who's trying to be someone else."
Wednesday looked at her, a rare uncertainty in her dark eyes. "But I keep getting it wrong. The balloon was meant to be easy. Colorful and intrusive. Like you. But you seemed confused by it."
"You just handed me a balloon and walked away! I didn't know whether to be happy or terrified."
"I paid the boy five dollars for that balloon."
"For a balloon?" Enid shifted on the bed, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "I've been spiraling all week thinking you were trying to figure out how to dump me. And you've been spiraling trying to figure out how to be a good girlfriend?"
"I don't spiral. I plan."
"You totally spiral. You just do it with research and excessive preparation." Enid bumped her shoulder gently against Wednesday's. "We're both disasters at this."
"That is not comforting."
"It kind of is though." Enid turned to look at Wednesday's profile. "Because it means we're both trying. I'm terrified of messing this up."
Wednesday was quiet for longer than Enid liked. "The information about gift giving was entirely unhelpful. I don't know if it contradicts acceptable norms. But may I give you something?"
"Sure. You don't have to though. I don't have a gift for you."
"Perfect. Then this will demonstrate my spontaneity."
Wednesday took Enid's hand and led her across to Wednesday's bed. She pulled back the black and white sheet to reveal a pillow Enid had never seen before.
It had an image of a pale gray wolf against a black background. But when Wednesday flipped it over, the reverse side was aggressively cheerful. Bright colors and patterns that looked like they'd been designed specifically to repel the Addams family.
"I got you a pillow," Wednesday said. Her voice was careful, controlled. "If you want it. But for my bed."
Enid stared at the chaotic colors of the pillow. At this completely un-Wednesday thing sitting on Wednesday's perfectly made monochrome bed.
"Most sources suggest waiting months before discussing cohabitation. But if you are beside me then I know you are safe. That is my preference." She gestured uncomfortably at the bed. "This is your side. If you want it."
"Are you asking me to sleep with you?" Enid's voice bubbled with mischief.
"It is a symbolic representation of your permanent access to my personal space." Wednesday's fingers traced the edge of the pillow. "I hadn't intended it to be a sexual proposition."
Enid choked on absolutely nothing.
"It was difficult to find articles on that topic that weren't heavily reliant on visuals."
"Oh that one I did see. I'll teach you about private browsing." Enid entwined her fingers with Wednesday's. "For the record I don't think I'm that flexible."
"Apparently regular practice—"
"I can't believe you got me a pillow with a wolf on it."
"Why not? You are a werewolf. It seemed obvious. But the wolf is my side, your side is colorful."
"You said it was my pillow?"
"It is your pillow for my bed. I will now have a reminder of my wolf beside me, even when you aren't sleeping there."
"You're too cute."
"I'm experimenting with an uncomfortable level of sentimentality."
"Why?"
"Because your reaction to it feels oddly satisfying."
"And you're going to let me ruin your whole dark and tortured aesthetic with something this bright?"
"No, when you aren't on it I will turn it over."
"You'll know it is there."
"I have made peace with it."
Enid laughed, the sound somewhere between a sob and pure joy. "Can I try it out?"
Wednesday gestured to the bed. "Of course, it's for you."
Enid made an excited noise as she climbed onto Wednesday's bed. The pillow was soft under her head. She turned onto her side, facing Wednesday, who was still standing there watching her every reaction.
"It's perfect." Enid patted the space beside her. "But it's kind of lonely over here."
Wednesday hesitated for just a moment. Then she sat down on the bed, her posture rigid.
"Wednesday." Enid reached out and took one of her hands. "Please lie down before I die from how sweet you're being."
"I refuse to accept that characterization." But Wednesday lay down anyway, on her back, perfectly straight, hands crossed over her chest.
Enid shifted closer, resting her hand on Wednesday's hip.
They lay there in silence for a moment. Enid could hear Wednesday's heartbeat, steady and sure, and feel the slight rise and fall of her breathing.
"I'm sorry I didn't just talk to you," Enid said quietly. "I don't want to be like the lead in the romcom who didn't have an honest conversation."
"I am not without fault. Usually when I cause you to worry it is carefully planned." Wednesday's hands uncrossed and she moved to stroke Enid's back.
"We're really bad at this."
"I would like to improve."
"Let's be bad at it together for a while."
Wednesday's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its gentle pattern. "That is acceptable."
Enid smiled against Wednesday's shoulder. She felt Wednesday's other hand move, trailing down her side.
Wednesday's fingers found the bare skin of Enid's leg where her shorts ended. Her touch was light, exploratory.
"Your legs are very soft now," Wednesday said. Her voice carefully gave nothing away. "The waxing was a success."
Enid's smile widened. "It was if you like it."
"It was most enjoyable. I'm already looking forward to waxing you again."
"No, you're meant to like how my legs feel, not just want to hurt me."
"I read that waxing the bikini area can be quite painful."
Enid shifted to apply more of her weight against Wednesday. "My bikini zone is off limits."
"A pity."
"Wait are you flirting?" Enid pressed closer, feeling Wednesday's fingers continue their gentle exploration of her newly smooth skin.
"If you cannot tell then it would be considered a failed attempt."
"I can never tell with you. You never give anything away."
"I gave you a space on my bed."
Enid pressed a kiss to Wednesday's neck. "Thank you for the pillow. And for trying so hard."
"You're welcome." Wednesday's voice was quiet. "Though I maintain that The Wedding Season was objectively terrible."
"It sounds truly awful." Enid closed her eyes, feeling Wednesday's chill against her skin. "We can watch something you actually like next time."
"Not there. I'm banned."
"Their loss. And just so you don't have to keep doing those quizzes, my love language is touch. I know it isn't yours. That's why it means so much every time you let me cuddle you."
Wednesday's palm stroked a little more firmly against Enid's leg, and Enid's smile grew even wider against Wednesday's neck.
The silence they lay in was comfortable now.
"Enid?" Wednesday's voice was softer than usual.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you came back."
She knew Wednesday wasn't talking about coming back to the room. She was talking about the forest. About being found. About being human again.
"I didn't come back. You brought me back," Enid whispered.
Wednesday's arm tightened around her, just slightly.