Chapter Text
Enid hated hospitals. She had been in and out of them ever since she was 12, and not because she was sick, but because her mother thought she needed to be cured. The blonde girl had been taken all over the country to every place that would have her, and some that wouldn’t have if not for the fangs her mother had bared when negotiating. She hated how her mother treated her like an outcast in a family full of them. She hated how each inconclusive diagnosis only led to a more severe attempt at treatment. Thus, she hated hospitals. And she hated the irony of finding herself in one immediately after she had successfully turned.
Even without the painful memories that she held, Enid didn’t think there would ever be a world where her skin didn’t crawl at the mere mention of them. Maybe it was due to her heightened senses, but hospitals proved to be an affront to all the faculties that she held. The sickly tinge of fluorescent lighting. The squeak of rubber soles against waxed linoleum. The smell of antiseptic, so strong in the air, she could taste it on her tongue. Together, they formed a troupe that worked only to antagonize and offend. But as she sat in her room with only the chiming of her heart monitor keeping her company, she remembered how the worst part was how lonely it always was.
After being patched up earlier, her only human contact had been with the nurse that hooked her up to the machine. They shared a friendly, if not shallow, conversation, but Enid was just eager to have someone to talk to. In fact, she had been so eager that she had forgotten to ask the nurse about the one thing that was on her mind – the one person that had made residence in both her dorm and in her heart.
The woman was already down the hall when Enid remembered to ask about Wednesday. Where was she? Was she okay? Did she need another hug? Because there was never another person that Enid had met that had more needed hugs as much as Wednesday Addams. Fortunately for her, there was never a person more willing to hug than Enid Sinclair.
Eventually, she decided to distract herself instead of wallowing on it. She had been fretting about it non-stop ever since the day the two had met. Initially, her worries pertained to things like wondering if Wednesday would kill her in her sleep or poison her milk tea with wolfsbane. However, as the days flew by, the subject of those concerns still stayed the same, but now Enid had become worried about her, instead of by her.
A painted hand reached for the phone that laid on the table beside her bed. She held it up to her face and there was a small “click” before the screen bathed her in a pinkish hue. Her thumb pressed down on one of the icons and she was greeted with a series of curated videos. The sounds of K-pop, ASMR, and cute animals doing even cuter things rattled out of her phone speakers as she swiped through her feed. It wasn’t long before a smile had grown on her lips, though Wednesday still remained on her mind. The dour girl was right about a lot of things, but she was wrong about social media. Soul-sucking void or not, where else would one find a video of a pig rescuing a baby goat?
Static screeched through the PA of the hospital and Enid flinched at the sudden sound. “Attention all hospital staff, we are declaring a Code Yellow, I repeat, we are declaring a Code Yellow.” The words echoed through the halls of the building, preceding a series of footsteps clamoring outside her room. With her hearing, she was able to catch a few snippets about “a missing girl” from the hurrying staff.
As the situation settled down outside, she returned to the mindless entertainment of her phone – lest she return to her own “missing girl” problem. She was watching someone peel dried paint from the inside of a paint can when the lights above her flickered. Instinctively, her eyes shot up, but she didn’t have even a second to process it before –
A sudden chill in the room assaulted her body. The smell of cobwebs and grave soil filled her nostrils. A familiar heat warmed her heart. Individually, these all meant nothing, but together, they meant everything.
Standing at the doorway, wearing only a black gown and her signature braids, was Wednesday. The dirt and ash that had covered her face earlier had been cleaned off, now showing only the minutest of scratches and the slightest hint of freckles. Their eyes met and Enid could already feel how sore her cheeks would be later from how hard she was smiling.
“Wednesday!” It took everything she had to not rip the electrodes off her chest and tackle the girl. She shut off her phone and set it back on the table, now having found an even better distraction.
“I see your fashion sense is as impeccable as always.” Her eyes went down and up the other girl’s body. “I didn’t know hospital gowns came in black.”
“They don’t,” Wednesday approached her, stopping a foot away from her bed, “but the nurse made an exception when I asked if she’d like me to make her scrubs come in red.”
Enid frowned. There it was, that signature Addams lack of charm. She wondered if she should reprimand her friend for her behavior, but she knew that would be nothing short of futile. Still, part of her wanted to do it nonetheless just to see what morose response Wednesday would conjure in reply.
“At least you let her off with a warning,” Enid sighed, but then she noticed the bandages peeking out from the collar of Wednesday's gown.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Worry coated the words and Enid’s face.
“I’m fine. The arrow failed to hit any major arteries or nerves, lodging itself harmlessly in my pectoralis minor. It’s fortunate; I cannot begin to imagine how hindered the progress on my novel would be if I were to be restrained to only one hand.”
Enid’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Crackstone shot an arrow at you?” It seemed ridiculous to be amazed by such a rather banal detail, especially considering all the other crazy things that had happened ever since the semester started, but this was all news to her.
“Technically, it was Xavier who shot the arrow,” she corrected.
“Wow, I’m glad you’re okay.” Enid shook her head and blinked as she began to take in all these sudden revelations. She was worried about Wednesday’s wound, but the girl seemed to be doing fine. Stuff like that just came with the territory of picking fights with evil Pilgrims, she supposed.
“I guess he was more jealous of Tyler than I thought.” A smirk was shot towards Wednesday, accompanied with the slightest side-to-side shake of her shoulders.
“Yes, well, you seem to be back in your nauseatingly high spirits,” Wednesday acknowledged.
“Duh, of course I am! Me and you kicked some hella butt today.”
It was hard to not be excited. The events of that night seemed like such an odd flash in her head – running off to find Wednesday, fighting Tyler in the woods, then crashing into one another after all the dust had settled. After the two had wrapped their arms around each other, they were afforded a minute’s worth of relief before they were snatched up by ambulances and whisked away to here. But now, they had time.
“We handled ourselves pretty well, huh?” Enid looked smug, and she had to, knowing Wednesday wouldn’t dare indulge in such a blatant display of arrogance. “Except for maybe you being used as an archery target and…” One of Enid’s hands came up to quickly gesture towards the marks on her face.
Wednesday’s eyes darted away for a brief moment at the mention of the lines on her face. “Your wounds…” Wednesday looked back to her. “I’d like to see them.”
It was far from the first time that Wednesday had shown a morbid curiosity to a cut or an injury. It wasn’t even the first time it had happened with her, that honor being reserved for the time she had reached for a pair of garden shears in botany class and cut her finger. She had seen Yoko react to blood before, but the look on the vampire’s face paled in comparison to the one Wednesday wore when Enid squealed at her own careless nick.
”Uh…sure?”
Wednesday took no time to close the distance between them. Enid froze when, all of a sudden, she found the girl’s warm breath hitting her square in the face. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Wednesday was a living, breathing girl. She often gave the impression that she would be cold to the touch, like a corpse, but after their embrace and now this, Enid enjoyed the idea that she was one of the few that was keen on how truly alive Wednesday was.
“Pathetic…” The word fell out of Wednesday’s mouth and whistled through the space between them before finally landing onto Enid’s ears and exploding in a deadly, mushroom cloud.
“W-what?” Enid whipped her head around to face her. The two were dangerously close now, but the blonde was too mortified by the other’s comment to take in their close proximity. Her lip quivered and her eyes stared into Wednesday’s as they searched for a reason, any reason, why she had said such a thing.
“The staff here are atrocious.” Wednesday had to turn her eyes down again as she pulled her face away. It wasn’t until she was further that she looked at Enid again. “Their ability to treat wounds is absolutely deplorable. Pugsley would’ve done a better job, and I don’t even trust him to patch Thing’s pajamas.”
“Oh.” Enid nodded. The weight that had just stood on her shoulders moments before fell away and she let out a heavy sigh. Wednesday didn’t think she was pathetic, and even if she did, she was at least in the right of mind to not say it out loud.
“I’m going to redo the dressing on them.” Wednesday turned around. “Thing, my instruments.”
The creak of a crash cart drew Enid’s attention away from the girl beside her bed. There, from the corner of the room, Thing was making his way towards them riding atop a shiny, steel trolley. The cache of medical supplies bounced along beside him before Wednesday’s hand reached out to stop the cart before it could run into the bed.
“Thing! You’re here!” Enid leaned forward and clapped her hands together. She was excited to see the dismembered hand, but there was also a small twinge of guilt in her as she realized her thoughts had been so preoccupied with the raven-haired girl beside them, that she hadn’t afforded not even a single second for her body-deficient best friend.
“I was so worried about you! Where have you been this whole time?”
The hand twitched and gestured as it chronicled its many escapades.
She laughed. “I’m glad to hear that we weren’t the only ones that had an exciting night.”
Thing splayed his fingers out towards her, presenting his nails before aiming his index at her.
“What about my –” Enid looked down at her fingertips. Though they still held the same lustrous color she had applied last night, patches of bare nails protruded from where Enid had contact with tree bark and Hyde flesh. “Thanks for the heads up. We can do each other later.”
The hand gave her a thumbs up.
“Enid.”
“Yeah?” The smile that had formed on her face disappeared when she turned and saw two hands inside a pair of nitrile gloves. Her body tensed up immediately. She hated hospitals.
“Are you ready?” Wednesday punctuated the question with the sharp snap of a glove against her pale wrist.
To say that Wednesday's bedside manner was lacking would be an understatement. The cold, unfeeling stare that she had grown accustomed to looked particularly inhospitable underneath the halogen glow. Nor did she feel welcome by the gloves that hung loose on Wednesday’s dainty, albeit deadly, hands. To put it simply, the vibe she gave off seemed more appropriate for an autopsy rather than a friendly check-up.
But still, who was she to deny the surely rare care from someone like Wednesday? So, Enid nodded and allowed the would-be mortician to go to work. She kept her gaze forward, watching Thing drum his fingers along the top of the metal cart. Wednesday’s fingers felt soft, even through the gloves, as they traced around her cuts. It surprised her how delicate the other girl was being, but also in how much she was enjoying the attention.
“How’s it look, doc?” Enid rapped her fingers along her own legs, now keeping rhythm with the severed hand across from her.
“Unfortunate.” Wednesday pulled away and looked down at her with a disappointed stare.
Enid’s face fell for the second time that night. “Excuse me?”
“As inept as this staff has proven to be,” Enid’s eyes widened as she prepared for the worst of it, “even they can’t seem to avoid the basics. They’ve managed to clean your cuts and sanitize the areas surrounding them. I’m afraid there’s very little chance of infection.”
“Oh,” Enid remarked. Nothing to worry about, just Wednesday being Wednesday. Maybe one day, she wouldn’t preface her observations with such grave one-word comments.
“‘Oh,’ indeed. This would’ve been a very opportune time to see how lycanthropic antibodies fight off an infection. The books at Nevermore are insultingly sparse when it comes to such topics.”
Enid begrudgingly nodded, entirely missing the fact that Wednesday had seemed to scour their school library for books about werewolves. “I’ll make sure to fight the next monster in a swamp or the sewers then.”
“Please, don’t.” Wednesday reached out and touched her hand to Enid’s shoulder. Both of them looked at the black fingernails on the girl before they were quickly retracted. Enid looked up to her and she could see the difficulty Wednesday was having with eye contact. “As your…friend, I would prefer it if you were not to receive any more unwarranted injuries…unless I were the one to inflict them, of course.”
Veiled threat aside, Enid couldn’t help but smile at the words. The two had been dancing around their concerns for each other ever since Enid had moved back into their room. The indirect displays of compassion and the removal of the line of tape between them had said a lot, but they were a far cry from actually saying what those deflections and gestures actually meant.
“Well, as your friend, let me just say it’s not up to you whether or not I get any more ‘unwarranted injuries,’ got it?”
Enid felt an interior twinge as the word “friend” rolled off her tongue. There was no weight, no taste to it, like a rice cracker or a bad piece of kibble. But isn’t that what they were? Friends?
“I’m a werewolf, remember?” Enid raised her hands and extended her claws. “I think I can take care of myself. I’ve done a good job with you, after all,” she smirked. And though there was a small look of something in Wednesday’s eyes, she ultimately conceded to the blonde.
Wednesday nodded, deciding to move on. “Well, regardless of your poor sense of self-preservation, I still need to tend to your wounds.” She looked over to Thing who, at some point, had somehow put on his own nitrile glove. He proceeded to unfurl a black, leather tool pouch. The stitching on it and the medieval-looking contents told Enid that it was Wednesday’s own personal kit. “After I resterilize your cuts, I should be able to start sewing them up.”
Enid’s eyes bugged out and she pulled herself back, digging into the pillow behind her. “No no no,” she fervently shook her head and held her hands out. “I am not getting stitches.”
There was a metal thud and Enid looked over to see Thing gesture at her with an offendedly open palm. “No offense, Thing,” she offered him a remorseful smile. “They look great on you, really. Very slimming.”
Before seeing how Thing had taken her apology, she whipped her head back to Wednesday on the chance that she would be ambushed with the needle and thread. ““But I am not–no, that is–you are going to–”
“Will you stop being a child, just for once?” The words came out of Wednesday with an unexpected vitriol. Enid’s hands fell and she reeled back at the sudden venom. Even Wednesday had noticed she had gone too far as her eyes darted back and forth before returning to Enid.
“If I don’t mend your cuts, then you’re going to scar.” She paused to catch herself. “And though I couldn’t care less about what gaudy color you want to dye your hair or paint your nails in the future, I doubt that you planned on trying to match those hues with the lacerations on your face.”
Enid furrowed her brows as Wednesday voiced her reasoning for this sudden onset suturing. She was right – Enid definitely did not have a 10-year plan for how she would color coordinate her injuries – but the initial outburst and following attempt to rationalize it seemed to have come out of nowhere.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Enid leaned forward and Wednesday took a small step back in turn. “Look, you have no idea how happy I am that you’ve got couture on the cranium, but it’s not a big deal.” She shrugged her shoulders to drive in the point. “So, it looks like I slept facedown on a hammock; it’s not like I died or –”
“But you could’ve!”
Enid froze as Wednesday’s voice echoed through the room. It wasn’t a yell, because Wednesday didn’t yell. But that’s why Enid was so still. Because it sounded like a yell. Because she had probably meant to yell. Because the girl whose palette and palate had never strayed from the monotone had raised her voice, maybe for the first time in her life.
Wednesday’s gaze sank to the floor, missing the look of shock that had plastered itself on Enid’s mug. The dark-haired girl seemed to crawl into herself as she realized what she had done. Though she stood only a few feet away, Wednesday had never seemed more distant.
The silence that followed made Enid realize she had taken the surrounding soundscape for granted. The beeps of the machines. The squeaks of shoes passing by. The hum of the lights. They were all gone. She didn’t know that hospitals could get even quieter. Even lonelier.
Her upper teeth found her bottom lip and they pressed down. She looked for Thing on the metal cart, but he had also disappeared. Whether it was to give the two girls privacy or his own inability to deal with how thick the air had gotten, she was jealous of his wherewithal to escape when he had the chance.
“Do you remember after we won the Poe Cup?” Wednesday was the one to break the silence after picking her eyes off the floor. “You slept with the trophy for the entirety of the subsequent week.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Enid’s lips. She remembered Wednesday teasing her for investing so much joy into a tacky piece of metal. Enid had clapped back by denying her visitation rights to the prize which, though Wednesday would never cop to it, Enid knew bothered her.
“Us snatching that trophy right from under Bianca’s perfect nose is still one of my most popular posts on my blog.” The look of content on her face turned into a pout as she recalled the aftermath. “If Weems hadn’t rode us so hard about displaying it in the hall, I’d be sleeping with it right now.”
“Now, would you have done all that if you had received a trophy for coming in last place?”
”No.” Enid scoffed at the ridiculous idea. “Why would I?”
“Exactly.” Wednesday stepped forward again. Her eyes were wide, as if Enid had finally stumbled onto whatever point she was making. “There’s a reason why they don’t give out trophies for failures, because no one wants to live with the constant reminder of their own inadequacies – whether it be a shiny, golden bauble behind a glass case or…”
Enid could see the words catch in Wednesday’s throat. She saw how the longer she stared into Wednesday’s eyes, the harder it was for the other girl to look back. Then, she saw the slightest flicker of those dark brown irises towards the gashes on her face.
So, that’s what this was all about.
“Wednesday…” The girl flinched at how softly Enid had said her name. There was a tenderness in it that Enid had reserved only for the most delicate of situations. Still, to someone like Wednesday, something so soothing must’ve felt like burning, hot tar.
“These aren’t your fault.” Enid’s own blue irises dashed to the corner of her eyes towards the marks. “You didn’t do anything –”
“Do not coddle me like you would one of your stuffed unicorns.” Enid could hear in her that Wednesday wanted to not-yell again, but she was holding herself back. “ I am fully aware of the responsibility I have in the events that lead up to you being injured. If I simply hadn’t –”
“Stop!” The sudden cry lined up perfectly with the extension of Enid’s claws. It hadn’t been her intent, but it had quieted Wednesday nonetheless. She would have to make a point to remember that in case they got into any more squabbles.
A sharp exhale left Enid’s nose. “Be honest with me.” she started, making sure to retract her claws. “Do you think I’m a pushover?”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes in caution. She looked down at Thing, who had decided now, of all times, to return, though without the glove. The hand opened up his palm to show that he had nothing to add. Finding no respite within those digits, she looked back to Enid.
“This is a trick question.”
“It’s not!” Enid let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Now answer me – do you think I’m a pushover?”
Wednesday returned the question with a silence of a different sort. It didn’t seem like she was avoiding Enid anymore, anything but. Wednesday’s eyes were pouring over every inch of her, as if trying to recall every minute thing she had done or said in the time they had known each other.
Enid could feel her eyes bore into her. For the one now asking the questions, it was her who was feeling the most exposed. It reminded her of all the times she would wake up to find Wednesday staring at her. The first time, the girl looked away and rushed out an excuse as if she was embarrassed. The times after that, Wednesday never bothered to hide it. It used to bother her, knowing that she was being looked at so closely. It still kind of did, but now it was hard to imagine sleeping without it. It was like she was guarding her.
“Our first night together, I watched you cry into what I could only call the most ostentatious sweater I had ever seen. When Parents Weekend reared its ugly head, you spent the entire time getting the screws put to you by that medieval battle-axe you call a mother. Not only that, but you’re a werewolf attending a private school for ‘outcasts,’ yet I’ve never seen anyone more susceptible to the sight of gore since my first show-and-tell in kindergarten.”
Enid could only offer a weak nod in response to the girl’s words. It was hard to talk because of the lump in her throat. It was hard to listen because everything she was saying was true. It was hard to look at her through the tears that were forming in her eyes. And it was even harder to look away because Enid had been the one to ask, and Wednesday wasn’t done answering.
“But hours before I saw you weep, you were ready to scratch my eyes out when I tried to get in between you and that mindless drivel you call music. And, as needling and off-putting as your mother was, not once did you lay down like the worthless dog she mistakes you for, nor did you give in to her ridiculous barbs and jabs.”
Enid brought her hand up to swipe at the wet corner of her eye. She had always been teased for her music and learning to deal with her mother was just another part of growing up. To know that Wednesday had seen some kind of strength in those moments meant a lot.
“It also goes to say that it was quite advantageous for the both of us that your vasovagal syncope didn’t carry over when you transformed. It would’ve been quite difficult to deliver the thrashing you did if you were unconscious.” There was a twitch at the corner of Wednesday’s mouth. The hint of a smile. The whisper of a dimple. “You also helped Eugene with his bees, which makes you an honorary member of the Hive.”
Enid choked out a laugh. The lighthearted remark had caught her by surprise. The tears that were forming started to fall from the sudden movement, but she let them. There had been an expectation that she was going to cry at whatever Wednesday's words would end up being, but she didn’t expect the positive turn they had taken.
“Your trust is effortless and coveted. Your care is deep and infinite. Your visage is so grossly incandescent that I would wager even the moon and sun are envious. Enid Sinclair, you are one of the strongest people I know.”
It was funny, because Enid looked anything but strong as she was full on weeping now. A mess of blubbers and snivels sat where she used to. Her cheeks were wet and her nose had begun to redden from the constant rubbing and wiping. She didn’t have a mirror, but it was a safe assumption to say that she looked just as bad, if not worse, than when she first entered the hospital.
“That was beautiful,” she finally squeaked out in between sobs.
“I was merely stating facts and recounting my observations.”
A chuckle rolled past Enid’s lips. Even after having said all that, she was still undeniably Wednesday, which was a comfort all the same.
“Okay, I get it, no getting too sappy.” Enid smiled as she brought the side of her hand to her eyes. “But can we at least both agree I’m not just some doormat? And that maybe I’m responsible for my own decisions?
“These things,” she pointed to her wounds, “are not your trophies, Wednesday. They’re mine.” She bobbed her head aggressively. “They’re proof that I’m not the freak my mother thinks I am or whatever impression people get when they first look at me.” She sat up straighter, grander. “I earned them, and I’m proud of them, and I’d be happily covered in them if it meant we could still be talking like we are right now.”
Enid could see the gears behind Wednesday’s eyes as she ruminated on her words. She might not have been the eloquent writer that Wednesday was – her gossip blog rarely called for such prose – but what she lacked in elegance she hopefully made up for in sheer earnestness and honesty.
“I’m concerned,” Wednesday stated. “There is an unrecognizable, yet irrefutable, warmth in the pit of my stomach. Is this what it feels like to be friends?”
Friends…she now knew why the word had seemed so anemic before. Because after everything they had confessed to each other, Enid realized they were so much more than that. But she still didn’t know what they were. Because she’s had friends and she’s never felt about them the way she felt about the girl standing in front of her. Maybe Wednesday had a better word for them. In the depths of all those old, dusty books the girl read, surely someone had written out the perfect combination of letters to describe them.
Enid shook her head and offered the girl a warm smile. “This is what it feels like to be us."
Wednesday accepted the smile before glancing down at her stomach. “I don’t know if I like this feeling.”
Enid laughed. “It’ll grow on you.” This? This was why they worked.
The thump of a thumb against stainless steel pulled them away from their picture-perfect moment. The two both turned towards the trolley and Thing was pointing at the items on the medical tray, the ones he had painstakingly gathered before all this happened.
“Of course,” Wednesday turned back to Enid. “even without stitches, I will still need to redress your…trophies.”
Enid’s head smugly swayed to-and-fro as they caught sight of each other. “I will allow it.”
Wednesday brought herself close again. This time, Enid couldn’t help but watch her work. She would crease her brow whenever the fit of the gloves disagreed with her and before pulling them taut again. There would be the slightest pucker of her lips whenever she needed to touch Enid’s skin, as if she was trying not to hurt her. Sometimes, she would check in to see if Enid was still staring at her. She always was, and Wednesday’s eyes would always dart back to what they were working on. It was like the first time Enid had caught her staring back in their beds.
“Done.” The work flew by and soon Wednesday was pulling herself away and tugging the gloves off her hands. “And before you ask, I do not have a lollipop for you.”
Enid scoffed before leaning back into her pillow. “I guess you get what you pay for.” The precocious demeanor didn’t last long before it melted away. She raised a hand towards the cuts to check on them, but stopped when she saw the look Wednesday was giving her. “Seriously, though? Thanks for everything.” She grinned. “Hospitals give me the creeps, and this was…nice.”
“I have a similar disdain for such institutions.” Wednesday looked around at the plain, white walls that surrounded them. “They spend so much time and money trying to stave off the inevitable…It’d be easier if they simply cut out the middleman and turned every one of these travesties into a morgue.”
Enid nodded, though not necessarily in agreement. Regardless, it was nice to see Wednesday back to her morbid mannerisms.
“I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely cold enough to be a morgue.” Enid hugged herself and rubbed her hands on her arms as a shiver ran through her body. She didn’t know how long they’d been talking, but it had been enough time for another freezing Vermont night to seep into the room. Her hands reached for the blanket, but the thin sheet of fabric did nothing to stave off the chill.
“That reminds me.” Wednesday raised her chin and looked at the headboard above Enid. “Thing.”
A familiar weight landed on Enid’s shoulder. She looked down and was surprised to not only see her friend, but the rainbow snood she had made for herself. Her eyes lit up as she took it.
“Thing, you are so–” she stopped herself, turning to Wednesday before continuing. “The both of you are so sweet.” A giddy smile that moved her body, though that might have been her trying to warm herself up.
“I believe I said that these should be reserved only for special occasions. I can only assume that transforming into a wolf and vanquishing a Hyde is special enough, “Wednesday said.
Enid’s head bounced up and down as she pulled the colorful garment over her head. “More than enough.” She ran her hands through the soft material, reveling in how comforting and large the garment actually was when fully unraveled. She was getting ready to swoop it back over her head when she stopped to look back at her friend.
She had an idea.
“Sit here.” Enid scooched over on the bed to make room. There was scheming in her eyes, and Wednesday took full note of it as she did nothing to move towards her.
“Why?” The three letters were doused in accusation.
“I’ll show you once you sit down.” Her hand slapped the lumpy space beside her, sending who-knows-what kind of particles into the air. “Now get that goth girl butt over here before I wolf out and bring you here myself.”
Enid had to stop herself from making a comment when Wednesday sat herself on the edge. She simply was not prepared at how cute it was that Wednesday’s legs dangled over the side, her feet not even skimming the floor below them.
“All the way in, Addams.”
Wednesday turned her head over her shoulder to glare at her. It was a look that would’ve sent anyone else running, barring they weren’t frozen in place with fear. But Enid wasn’t just anyone.
The blonde returned the murderous glare with a childish gesture as she stuck her tongue out and scrunched her nose. Maybe she was pushing it a bit far with how much she could get away with, but stuff like this was why Wednesday liked her, right?
Seeing that there was no way around whatever Enid had planned, Wednesday relented. She lifted her legs over the side before letting them rest next to Enid’s. They were shoulder-to-shoulder now – the mattress explicitly not built for multiple people – but that just meant it was easier for what Enid had in mind.
“Howdy,” Enid flashed her neighbor a smirk and Wednesday put on one of her many scowls.
“If you don’t tell me why I’m here, I’m going to–”
“Fine, fine, geeze.” Enid grabbed the part of the snood that was hanging from her neck and raised it up in between their faces. “I figured it wasn’t fair that I was the only one that got to be part of the snood-lebration, so…” She inched it up until her hands and the garment were hovering over Wednesday’s head. “This is okay though, right?” The excited smile she had put on turned into one of apprehension. Maybe she should’ve asked before this. “I kinda figured the flesh peeling thing was a joke, but if you don’t–”
“It’s fine.” It was a rather curt response coming from her, but it still happened to be on the more amicable side of things when it came to the Wednesday-scale-of-affability. “But if you tell anyone about this, it will be your pelt draped around my neck when I walk out of here.”
“Deal.” Enid had never accepted an offer so eagerly as her head bobbed up and down. She lowered her hands and let the vibrant bend fall around Wednesday’s neck and drape itself around her little shoulders. She pulled her hands back and she could only gasp at what she saw.
Wednesday had never looked so precious before and Enid could almost feel herself starting to tear up again. She would’ve taken a picture if she wasn’t absolutely sure Wednesday would’ve broken both her phone and her fingers. But that was okay, because she didn’t need a digital device to remember this – the weird girl from the black and white movies with a rainbow around her neck and red on her cheeks.
To think, she was the reason for the color in her life.
“Oh…my…god…” The snood around Wednesday’s neck was only the second brightest thing in the room, the first being the smile that had stretched itself out over Enid’s face. “You look absolutely amazing.”
“Don’t.” The word came out hushed as Wednesday stared down at the bed beneath them.
“I’m not joking. Don’t get me wrong – I totally dig the little orphan Annie meets Nosferatu vibe – but I always thought a splash of color would –”
“Enid?” Wednesday lifted her head and matched Enid’s gaze with her own.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t.” Never before had Enid heard such a single word with so much intent laid behind it, but at the same time, never before had Enid been more comfortable than with the girl behind that word in her bed.
“Okay, okay, “ Enid muttered in between giggles. “But now that you’re stuck here with me,” she held her hand out and Thing promptly dropped her phone into it. “There’s a really cute video I think you’d like.” She brought the phone in between them and she could see the daggers Wednesday was staring into it through the reflection of the screen. It might’ve almost cost both of them their lives, but Enid was finally going to be able to show Wednesday what TikTok was.
As her fingers scrolled through her favorited videos, Enid couldn’t help but notice how tense Wednesday felt beside her. She didn’t think too much of it because Wednesday always seemed on edge – as if she couldn’t afford to let her guard down for not even one second. She had noticed it first when she realized that Wednesday would always go to bed after her (if she even slept to begin with), and how she would always be awake before Enid was up. Combined with all the times Enid caught her staring, and it was no wonder she had initially thought Wednesday was planning to kill her – or worse.
Wednesday was like a pot of water over a flame. If you weren’t careful, she would boil over and burn you if you were too close. Other times, she’d have the lid on and wait for the wrong person to lift it before scalding them with steam. But no matter what the situation, the flame was always on underneath and Wednesday was always simmering on that stove .
The only time she had not felt that imminent threat was earlier that night after the two had embraced in front of all their peers. Enid remembered how she had flung herself into Wednesday’s arms, completely disregarding the girl’s boundaries. When she pulled back and looked into Wednesday’s eyes, Enid saw her turn the fire off before returning the embrace twofold.
And she swore it happened again in that hospital bed. After she found the video and pressed play. After resting her head on top of Wednesday’s and whispering “You’re gonna love this” before a clip of a cat swatting a dog in the face almost sent Enid rolling over in laughter. Enid felt it in when the head beneath hers dropped barely an inch. When the shoulders next to her fell and sank into hers. When the feet in the bed beside her legs stopped sticking straight up and drooped forward.
Enid hugged her again, but Wednesday didn’t hug back this time. But that was okay. Enid didn’t need that. She didn’t need Wednesday to hug her or laugh at all the dumb videos she had planned to show her that night (and boy, was it a lot of videos). She was just happy to have her there. Because they were more than friends – whatever that meant. Because Enid was the one girl Wednesday was afraid to burn. And maybe, because with Wednesday, Enid had forgotten how lonely hospitals could be.