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1.
The first time Wednesday visits Enid in San Francisco after being bugged about it over text for days, she’s greeted by a smiling Enid at the gates, who practically lunges at her, arms immediately wrapping around her middle — almost like they belong there.
Wednesday’s arms dangle at her sides, limp, her breath caught in her throat.
When Enid pulls away, it’s with a tinge of confusion and uncertainty she regards Wednesday with. “Um, is this not okay?” she asks quietly, her hands gripping around Wednesday’s arms instead, and Wednesday shakes her head.
“No, I’m still getting used to this,” she says. “That one time hasn’t magically made me accustomed to being ambushed like this.” Then, she’s returning the hug rather awkwardly, ignoring the endeared chuckle falling from Enid’s lips.
2.
It’s the start of a new term.
The idea of sharing a room with Enid doesn’t seem as jarring anymore — much more bearable in comparison to the start of last term.
It’s like Enid has somehow settled herself in the small cracks of her heart, and won’t leave, so Wednesday just ends up letting her be.
When she enters their room, Enid’s already sitting at her desk, her back facing her.
“Enid?” she calls out, and Enid swivels around, eyes widening in unspoilable excitement when they land on her.
“Oh my God!” she squeals, springing up from her chair and rushing over to her. “You’re here!”
She looks ready to hug her with the way her arms are thrown out wide, but Wednesday’s gut instinct makes her step back a little, away from her.
The small shift in movement is enough for Enid to slowly drop her arms to her side. “Sorry, I didn’t… I should probably control myself?”
“No, it’s— like I said, I’m still getting used to this,” Wednesday says, quietly, a little abashed as she takes a step closer to Enid once again. “You can… Do that. It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
Wednesday nods, and Enid smiles before pulling her into a warm embrace.
“Glad to have you back here. I thought you weren’t going to return,” Enid mumbles, nuzzling her face on her neck, and Wednesday breathes out, softly, arms coming up to wrap around Enid’s waist.
“And neither did I,” she admits, voice soft and cheeks pleasantly warm. “But at least I have a reason to come back now.”
In the form of a person, she doesn’t say.
3.
Enid storms into their room one fine afternoon, slamming the door shut behind her and leans her back against it.
Wednesday looks up, pausing her conversation with Thing, eyebrow raised — sees the way she looks on the brink of tears. Stomach jolting at the sight and a surge of anger running through her (who made her like this?), she rises from the bed and makes her way over to Enid, who hasn’t moved an inch since entering the room.
As if sensing her, Enid looks up from the floor, chin trembling a little. “Wednesday,” she says, voice cracking a little, and then she’s throwing herself at Wednesday, arms wrapped so tightly around her Wednesday almost finds it hard to breathe properly. Wednesday can feel her body trembling against her, from the sobs racking through her.
Wednesday returns the hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back, and they stay like this for a while until Enid’s sobs subside enough for her to talk properly.
“What happened?” Wednesday asks, a dangerous edge to her voice.
“My mother,” Enid simply mumbles, voice thick from tears.
Wednesday breathes out through her nose, softening; holds Enid a little tighter, with no plans on letting go any time soon.
4.
Whenever Enid’s excited about something, the first thing she does is try to hug Wednesday. It’s almost like an instinct of hers.
Usually, Wednesday would step away or simply put her palm up to indicate for her to stop.
Though not this time, apparently. This time’s an exception.
They’re sitting on Enid’s unmade bed, a book in Wednesday’s hands and a phone in Enid’s, with Wednesday enjoying the silence and Enid furiously scrolling through her phone.
The peace and quiet is interrupted when Enid starts squealing her name.
“What?” Wednesday questions, an edge of annoyance in her voice, not a fan of being interrupted during her reading time.
“I won this online giveaway I joined on Instagram about a month ago!” she says, practically bouncing on the spot; Wednesday could feel the bed moving under her. “So many people joined, so I didn’t expect to win, but I won!” she explains, a wide grin on her face, looking ready to hug her, arms extended and thrown out wide, but she hesitates the last second, arms suspended in mid-air.
Wednesday clears her throat, faintly nodding her head, signalling for her to go ahead.
With a grin, Enid pulls her into a hug, squealing into her neck while babbling on about what she’s going to do with whatever it is she’s won (Wednesday’s not listening; barely could keep it together with Enid like this, acting like an overexcited puppy.)
“Yeah, well done — it’s good to know you’ve succeeded in something,” Wednesday mumbles, patting her back awkwardly.
Enid pretends she doesn’t hear her.
5.
Enid has a few centimetres over her.
Just a few, but it’s noticeable enough.
Now that hugging seems to not be off-limits anymore, she’s gotten used to side-hugging Wednesday: an arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side, till she’s pressed right up against her, while they’re walking the grounds of Nevermore.
“What is this?” Wednesday asks when Enid clings onto her like a koala.
“What is what?” Enid questions with her air of usual cheeriness, causing Wednesday’s finger to twitch a little at her side.
“You keep doing this these days. Just because I let you hug me doesn’t mean I’m okay with this constant thing you do.”
“If you weren’t okay with it, you would have pushed me away. Or you would have flinched away from me, but you didn’t, so I’m taking that as a good sign.”
Wednesday hates that she can’t argue with that, so she presses her mouth into a thin line and stays silent.
(Enid makes a habit of it.)
(Wednesday doesn’t complain about it.)
(+1.)
They’re fighting, again.
Over something completely ridiculous, mind you.
And quite frankly, Wednesday doesn’t want to be doing this, right here, right now; she watches as Enid storms over to her closet and swings the doors open, the bright red duffel bag once again making its unwelcome appearance.
Wednesday doesn’t know how to appease people. She doesn’t know how to comfort, or calm someone down, so in her mild state of panic upon seeing that thing she never wants to see unless it’s the end of term, she walks right up to Enid and proceeds to wrap her arms around her middle — as if it’s an instinct she never knew she had in her; lays her cheek on her back.
She can feel Enid tensing in her arms, and it’s silent for a few seconds.
“What are you doing?” she finally asks, and Wednesday can hear the anger already dissipating.
“Resolving this fight before it turns into something worse and you end up leaving me like last time.”
“Wednesday, that’s… If this is your way of apologising, then I need you to know that’s not how this works.” Wednesday hears a sigh leaving Enid, then she’s twisting around in her arms to face her. “This is like kissing someone in order to stop an argument.”
“Should I be doing that the next time?” Wednesday wonders aloud, peering up at Enid. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“That’s not what I meant at— you are— oh my God,” Enid says, exasperated, her cheeks pinking up a little. “This is ridiculous! How am I supposed to stay mad at you like this?”
“Then don’t,” Wednesday says. “I’ll be honest… I don’t like it when we’re fighting. I can deal with that with anyone else, but not with you.”
Enid blinks down at her. “I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” Enid mumbles, shoulders deflating a little. “You’re just so…” She sighs. “Never mind.”
“So does this mean I’m forgiven?”
“I mean, I guess?” Enid says, eyes drifting away from her for a second, and Wednesday can feel the corners of her mouth twitching a little as she re-tightens her hold around Enid.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Give me at least a few more minutes to cool down a little.”
“Fine,” Wednesday says, leaning against her. “I guess this is an excellent tactic to use the next time we get into a fight.”
“No, it’s not. You’re an idiot. This time is the only exception,” Enid says, arms eventually wrapping around Wednesday, returning the hug.
Wednesday ignores her and continues to hug her instead.
(You know, maybe hugging isn’t that bad after all — it has its uses, she guesses.)