Chapter Text
The silence lasted exactly eleven seconds.
Enid counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
By five, she had decided that nobody was going to say anything.
By eight, she had decided that she was definitely going to say something.
By eleven—
“So,” Enid began.
Both Wednesdays looked at her.
Enid immediately regretted speaking.
“Never mind.”
The older Wednesday leaned back against the sofa, one leg crossed over the other. She held her coffee in both hands, studying Enid over the rim of her mug.
“You have not changed much.”
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”
Older Wednesday shrugged.
Enid blinked.
“Is that a compliment?”
“No.”
“Right.”
Wednesday glanced torwards her older self
“Why are you withholding information?”
“Why would I share information?” Older Wednesday countered.
Wednesday leaned forward on the sofa.
“So we could leave.” she said “That’s what you want, correct?”
The older woman tilted her head.
“Depends.”
“Can you be any more vague?”
“Do you want me to?”
Wednesday sighed “You’re always like this?”
Enid looked between them.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Both Wednesdays turned torward her at the same time.
“Sorry.”
The older Wednesday’s lips twitched.
It was subtle.
Barely there.
But she saw it.
She had seen this expression before. On Wednesday.
But never quite like this.
It seemed like Wednesday had picked up on it too.
“You’re smiling.” Wednesday said.
Older Wednesday looked at her.
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“No.”
“I saw it.”
“Then your vision has deteriorated.”
Enid eyes widened and laughed “Oh my god.”
“What.” Wednesday asked irritated.
“You two argue the exact same way.”
Neither anwsered.
Enid grinned.
“This is amazing.”
“This is horrifying.” Wednesday corrected.
Older Wednesday glanced outside.
“Maybe we should transfer somewhere more comfortable.” She suggested “It is relatively late.”
Enid hadn’t given time much thought, all things considered.
The sun was almost setting, enveloping the room in a warm light. Making the dark wooden furniture softer.
“I am perfectly comfortable.” Wednesday said.
“You’re sitting on the edge of the sofa.”
Wednesday glanced down.
She was.
Wednesday’s entire body was tense. Ready to stand at the slightest indication of danger.
She glanced down at her own position.
She sat almost, relaxed.
Wednesday slowly leaned back.
“Better?”
“No.”
Enid snorted.
“Where is the rest of the house?” She asked.
Older Wednesday studied her.
“Why?”
“I want to see it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things you should not look at.”
“Such as?”
Older Wednesday ignored her.
“I’ll take you to your room for tonight.”
Enid glanced at Wednesday out of the corner of her eye.
Wednesday glanced back.
Neither spoke.
Did they want to say here for the night?
And more importantyly,
what kind of concequences would this have?
Then Enid smiled.
One night couldn’t hurt, right?
“Sure.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because—“
“You’re both so boring.”
Older Wednesday turned torwards the hallway.
“Come.”
Enid jumped up
“Really?”
“I said come.”
Wednesday stood reluclantly.
They left the sittingroom and entered the hallway again.
The further they walked in, the more Enid started to notice the little details she missed the first time.
Photographs.
Books.
Flowers.
A framed drawing.
A small collection of porcelain animals.
And cats. Several cats.
Enid stopped.
“Wednesday.”
“What?”
“There are pictures of cats everywhere.”
Older Wednesday continued walking
“Yes.”
“How many cats do you have?”
“Three.”
“Three?!”
“They keep each other occupied.”
She turned to Wednesday.
“Since when do you like cats?”
Wednesday raised an eyebrow.
“I've always liked cats.”
“Why didn’t you ever say so?”
“I didn't feel the need to.”
Enid grinned.
“Future Wednesday is a cat lady.”
Older Wednesday stopped walking.
“I am thirty-one, not eighty.”
“Still.”
They continued down the hallway.
At the end was a staircase.
With more pictures.
Only these weren’t drawings or cats. These were people.
Not just any people, people she knew.
A person with blonde hair kept coming back every photograph.
Her.
Why were there pictures of her?
Enid stared at them.
Okay.
Maybe that wasn’t weird.
Except she an Wednesday were together every picture.
And she meant,
every
single
one.
Graduation, in front of a appartment, Enid with a bouqet of roses, group pictures. It was as if in every situation they sought eachother out.
Enid felt heat creep up her neck.
They were standing really close.
Like, really close.
Maybe future her had simply gotten used to personal space not existing around Wednesday.
That must be it.
There was absolutely no other explanation.
She glanced at older Wednesday.
She was watching her.
Oh no.
There was one big picture that took over half the wall.
In the picture were three people. Enid noticed her and Wednesday immedeatly. They were once again standing way too close. But in the middle stood a girl Enid had never seen before.
The girl was about four years old, and had the same black hair as Wednesday. She had striking blue eyes, like herself but there was something else, too. Something in the shape of her face. The slight tilt of her head. The almost suspicious look in her eyes.
Wednesday.
She and the girl were smiling into the camera, Wednesday wasn’t.
But her hand rested protectively over the schoulder of the little girl.
Enid didn’t know who the child was.
But something in het gut, told her she maybe didn’t want the answer.
Enid swallowed.
“Who is she?”
Neither Wednesday answered.
She looked at them.
Young Wednesday was staring at the photograph as if it had personally offended her.
Older Wednesday, on the other hand, looked like she had just been caught doing something she desperately wanted to keep hidden.
“Wednesday?”
“I don't know.”
Enid frowned.
“You don't know?”
“I have never seen her before.”
“But that's you.”
“Obviously.”
“And that's me.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Enid ignored the comment.
Her eyes returned to the girl.
“Then who is she?”
Older Wednesday finally stepped closer.
“Just keep walking.”
Enid looked up.
There was something in her voice.
Not irritation, not annoyance,
fear.
Enid's fingers tightened around the railway
“Why?”
Older Wednesday didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Enid slowly looked the photograph over again. There was writing on the left corner.
A date.
And three words.
Our little menace.
Enid's breath caught.
She looked at Wednesday.
Wednesday was staring at the words.
For once, she had nothing to say.
“What,” Enid whispered, “does that mean?”